


Sunburst

by transfiguredtoad



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anti-Daenerys, Daenerys' friend dies, Dany and Jon are married but I've been told not to tag it as a relationship, F/M, Major character death - Freeform, Minor Character Death, but in an ill sense not in an evil sense, mad!Dany, no miscarriage, soz Dany stans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-01-03 23:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 90,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21187745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transfiguredtoad/pseuds/transfiguredtoad
Summary: in which Jaime isn't the stupidest Lannisteror, in which Jaime waits before leaving King's Landing, stealing two armies on his way and arriving at Winterfell in the nick of time





	1. Chapter 1

They reached Riverrun a week later than Jaime had initially planned, but with a contingent of 1000 soldiers whose leaders Jaime had convinced to join the cause when they had encountered them outside of the city. It had been a risk, one that Bronn had encouraged, and it had paid off.

But travelling with a small army was slower than just Bronn and Jaime racing across Westeros to where they would take the army from Riverrun, ostensibly on Cersei’s orders. Truthfully, they would go to join the cause with the Northern lords and the Targaryen queen. And Jaime would be the honourable knight that he had always dreamed of being.

The commanders in charge of Riverrun had protested when Jaime arrived, but he had used his universal wit and charm to convince them. And they would hardly think that the queen’s devoted brother would betray her, would they?

Jaime left some soldiers at Riverrun, with the most devout Lannister commanders. The rest, he took, creating a contingent of 4000 soldiers. When he slept, Jaime dreamed of Brienne’s face when he arrived. He dreamed of being hailed as a saviour by her.

Things were even more slow going after they had collected the rest of the army. Jaime had to speak with the commanders, had to choose to trust some and choose not to trust others. He felt a sense of pride when he realised that, for the first time in his life, he was making the right choice, even if it was more difficult.

Being away from Cersei was not difficult. It took strain away from Jaime’s soldiers, reminded him who he was, who he wanted to be. He’d never thought that he was anyone without her, had thought they were two sides of the same person. But she was poison.

And he could see that now.

“Scouts are reporting a lack of northerners in the villages,” one of Jaime’s trusted commanders reported to him. Ser Michel Prester was the second son of Lord Prester and a knight with whom Jaime had fought many times. Of all the men in his command, Jaime trusted him most, even more than Bronn.

They had passed through Moat Cailin the previous day, finally entering the North after over a month journeying. Jaime just hoped he wasn’t too late.

“A lack of northerners?” Jaime repeated and Michel nodded. “In what sense?”

“There are none, my lord. All the way up the King’s Road. It is as if they have disappeared.”

Jaime felt an unpleasant sensation settle in his stomach. What if they were too late? What if he arrived at Winterfell to find his brother dead? What if he arrived at Winterfell and found Brienne slain where she stood? It was enough to bring bile to Jaime’s throat. “How much longer until we reach Winterfell, Ser Michel?”

“It’s two weeks march from here, my lord.”

Jaime closed his eyes. They couldn’t fail.

XXX

They managed the long trek in twelve days and the cold was seeping beneath every soldier’s skin, night and day. Jaime hated the fucking north. It was only getting colder. If he’d come all this way to find his brother and Brienne dead, he wasn’t sure if he would bother turning back around. He was sure he’d be able to find a cliff tall enough to jump off.

Jaime remembered the last time they had approached Winterfell. He had been a different man back then, a golden-haired, two-handed lion, loyal to his father and sister. Bran Stark flashed into Jaime’s mind, the swoop he had felt in his heart as he had pushed the boy to his death, before turning back to fuck Cersei. Who had he been? When had he changed from being a hopeful knight to being an evil man, motivated only by fucking his sister?

Jaime’s self-loathing was interrupted by the sound of swords singing, the smell of scorched skin and the sight of smoke. Jaime had been aware of the sunset and knew that the soldiers wanted to stop but they were so close now. And Jaime wanted to see his brother. And Brienne. He wanted to know if they were too late.

It seemed they were. Jaime glanced to his left and met Bronn’s eyes. The sellsword was as close to panicking as Jaime had ever seen him. Scrunching his hand into a fist, Jaime forced his heart to slow. He was here for a reason. He had left for a reason. And this was it.

The wights were even more terrifying than Jaime remembered, but he didn’t let it stop him. Squires ran rampant starting fires for the footsoldiers, mostly archers as Jaime had wanted. It was the reason he had gone to Riverrun. Ser Michel Prester was known for his archery contingent.

Jaime and the other hundred or so soldiers armed with valyrian steel, including Bronn, stayed atop their horses. There were about 1000 soldiers who had no fire and no valyrian steel. He had instructed them to find weapons where they could, the guilt weighing heavy on his chest.

Still far enough away to be unnoticed, Jaime took hold of his reins, glancing right to Michel and left to Bronn. Screams and groans and shouts were reaching them. Jaime wondered how many of his army knew that they were marching into a slaughter.

It was worth it, Jaime thought, closing his eyes and remembering jumping into the bear pit to save Brienne. And perhaps they would be able to help more, by forcing the wights to fight on two fronts.

They had to try.

And, so, under the cover of darkness, Jaime instructed his squire to sound the horn. And, with that, the wielders of valyrian steel galloped. Jaime took a hold of his fear with a picture of Brienne and Tyrion. He would not let them die, not if he could help it. 

If only he had arrived the day before.

The riders took the wights by surprise, admittedly and, for a few moments, they had the advantage. Fiery arrows began to fly, aiming for the white walkers as Jaime had instructed them. He had done everything he could to prepare his soldiers.

He wasn't sure he'd done everything he could to prepare himself. The wights were terrifying, unlike anything Jaime had encountered before. They attacked with everything they had, biting and clawing at Jaime in their attempts to kill him.

The horses were their advantage. Not only did they mean that they could bring their wrath down on the wights from above but they also had a better chance at killing white walkers. And, when they did that, hundreds of wights died too.

Jaime was focusing his efforts on the white walkers, conscious of the huge expanse of wights between his contingent and Winterfell. He knew his unarmed soldiers wouldn't have charged yet. There was no use until they could get closer and find dragonglass weapons.

Fiery arrows were flying from both directions, from the walls of Winterfell and from Jaime's 1500 archers. The risk of friendly fire was substantial but worth it. He and his commanders had agreed that on the ride from Riverrun.

Jaime fought until his arms ached and then carried on. He saw a white walker and charged, stabbing it through the heart before it had a chance to grab him. Sometimes that meant that the wights which surrounded him died too, leaving him free to turn his efforts towards the next white walker.

It was clear that the Night King had not expected an attack from the rear because there were far more horse-mounted white walkers to be found to the rear of the army. It pleased Jaime that his soldiers were turning the tide of the battle. He just prayed they weren't already too late.

Jaime's hope rose when, in the darkness, he began to see the dead bodies of living soldiers. They were making headway, although at least half of his valyrian steel wielders were dead. Taking a deep breath, Jaime reached for the horn around his neck and blew, signalling to the unarmed soldiers that they should charge. There were surely enough weapons to be found now. And, with a surge of guilt, Jaime thought that they would take the heat off the valyrian steel wielders. 

The amount of arrows flying had slowed and Jaime was concerned that they were running low. They had stopped flying from Winterfell a while ago. Jaime closed his mind to wondering what that meant for Tyrion and Brienne, plunging his sword through the heart of a wight which had clambered up too close to Jaime on his horse.

Jaime didn't know how much time passed from then until he finally saw Bronn again, brandishing a valyrian steel sword. Jaime didn't doubt that Bronn had been aiming to find a valyrian as soon as he had heard the horn sound. Without a thought against it, Jaime swung down from his horse, the battle roaring in his ears. Bronn was shouting something and Jaime shook his head, his sword still held aloft and battling the wights. They were completely surrounded. Completely fucked. 

"You have command," he shouted, slitting the throats of two wights with a single stroke of his sword. Bronn’s eyes widened madly. "Get on the horse. I have to-"

"Good luck, you mad prick," Bronn shouted back, jumping atop Jaime's horse. With that, Jaime began to cut his way through the wights, grateful when more fired arrows began to fly. Clearly, some of his unarmed warriors had taken his advice to find arrows in the midst of battle to heart and their defense was improved.

Jaime battled to reach Winterfell, the imposing castle calling him through the dark. He knew that Brienne would be commanding somewhere, that Tyrion would likely be deep within the castle, safe. Jaime only prayed that he would survive long enough to protect them, that he would not be just another body for them to find when they won. And they would win. They had to win. His sword sang against the possibility of loss. He took hope in the men that surrounded him. He was not alone on the battlefield, surrounded by his own soldiers and more and more living soldiers as he cut his way through.

Jaime tried to organise them, shouting orders until they made themselves into a line, refusing to let the wights through. Just like any other battle. Jaime had been in so many battles. He knew how to command and he was good at it. He would reach her.

When he saw her for the first time, his heart jumped. She was leading the left flank. Of course she was. Accompanied by the squire Jaime had gifted her and brandishing the sword that was the twin to Jaime's, she was a whirlwind, a hurricane, taking out wight after wight and surging forward to find the walkers. Her movements were unparalleled. She was exquisite.

Jaime abandoned the line he had organised. He slammed his sword through the heart of a wight, elbowing another in the face before slitting its throat. Energy soaring, Jaime kept his eyes on Brienne, trusting his battle instincts to fight off the dead between them. She was freakishly tall and, by the seven, he was grateful. Her magnificent reach was doing wonders for keeping her and the squire alive.

He took out a dead horse and then barely scratched its rider, a wight walker. A scratch was enough, with valyrian steel. His wights fell all around him and Jaime charged forward. He was so close now and he could be right by her side, he could fight by her side, the way he’d always wanted to. Her face at Riverrun, when she’d thought she would have to fight him - gods, he’d wanted to fight by her side for so long.

Podrick was protecting her back from the wights that threatened to encroach. Jaime wanted that job. He wanted that job for life. Crying out, he whirled with his sword, ignoring the way his heart jumped when he saw one of the living fall.

He was going to make it to her. He was going to make it to her. 

XXX

Brienne knew nothing but the sound of swords clashing and the feel of Podrick against her back. Her sword sang as she fed it with the destruction of the dead.

She had just stabbed one of them through the stomach when he ran through in front of her. Brienne faltered but Podrick was there to save her from death. Her loyal squire. A gift from him. His eyes were crazed - and green. She shook her head. Maybe she was dead already.

"Brienne," she heard him cry, his blade taking out three wights in seconds. Her heart surged as another encroached. She reached across and took it out. Without speaking, she made room for him between her and Podrick. She didn’t need to know why he was there; she trusted him not only with her own life but Podrick’s too.

Her whole body seemed rejuvenated somehow as though Jamie's appearance had given her arms and legs more energy, as though just seeing him had filled her with adrenaline. Or, perhaps, hope of a future. Together, the three of them battled wights, took down white walkers and protected those that surrounded them.

Not all were protected. Most of the knights Brienne had become accustomed to at Winterfell had been slain. She had watched countless northern soldiers, Unsullied and Dothraki fall. And then she had started to see Lannister soldiers fall too.

And she realised that Jaime had not come alone. Cersei had sent him with an army. The army that had rained flaming arrows on wights, that had taken out white walkers time after time, giving much needed momentary reprieves to the soldiers defending Winterfell.

Pride swelled in Brienne's chest, making her fight faster and harder. They were going to survive. Jaime had come, with troops, and they were going to survive. She would see him smile and tell him how happy she was to see him.

They were going to survive.


	2. Chapter 2

They had survived.

Screaming and groaning and panting, they had survived. Every wight and white walker had died - again. They had been destroyed. And they were the victors. They had survived.

Jaime dropped his sword. In fact, he barely dropped it. It clattered out of his hand by no awareness of his own. His muscles simply protested being used anymore. He found himself on the ground, clattering like his sword, body numb to the pain and the cold, his knees tucked under his chin. He swiped his finger slowly over a wound on his neck, pressing the bloody pad against another and staring as the blood lingered between the two. A wound that would have been fatal had Brienne not saved him. Saved him as she had so many times before.

Eyes drooping, Jaime looked up at her. It was still dark, although it seemed as though the night should have been long over. How long had they been fighting? 

Even in the dark, though, her sapphire eyes glimmered. Wordlessly, Jaime raised his hand to her and she took it. He squeezed, enjoying the feel of her callouses against his. They had both worked so hard to get where they were. He felt her try to pull him up and he shook his head, straining his own muscles to suggest she sit by his side instead.

Although her face didn't move, he knew she was only too happy to comply. She never did anything she didn't comply with. When she reached the floor, next to him, their armour covered thighs clanging against each other, he leaned his head against her shoulder.

“You came,” she rasped. Jaime smiled weakly and turned his face so that he could look her in the eyes.

“Did you ever doubt I would?” he asked and she smiled, showing only the bottoms of her top row of teeth.

“Truthfully, the encroaching masses of wights gave me pause,” she replied, leaning her head against his. Jaime chuckled, enjoying her weight against him, and they were silent for a few moments. “You came.” It was a whisper.

“I always will,” he returned against her shoulder. "I promise."

XXX

"Well, you little fucker, looks like we survived." 

Tyrion blinked and then blinked again, wondering if this was death. He had hoped he wouldn't be stuck in the crypts of Winterfell for eternity. "Bronn? What the bleeding hell are you doing here?"

Bronn laughed, showing Tyrion his cuts and bruises. "I came to fight, didn't I? Did you really think I'd leave you alone?"

The others left in the crypts were staring at them. There weren't many, only those who hadn't rushed out to find a loved one, Sansa included.

"You want us to believe you came of your own volition?" Sansa asked, disbelief colouring her tone. Bronn snorted, playing with his sword. Tyrion noted that it was valyrian steel and wondered whether the sellsword had killed a man to claim it or had just plucked it out of a dead man's hand. 

"No, of course I didn't. I'd have much rather been in my bed in the Red Keep, if I'm honest. Your fucking brother, however," Bronn said, making Tyrion's eyebrows threaten to fly off his face. 

"My brother? Jaime? He's here?"

Bronn nodded. Tyrion turned to Sansa to see if she was as shocked as he. If she was, her face wasn't showing it. Her face didn't show much nowadays. It wasn’t much of a change from their short-lived marriage, truth be told.

"Where is he?" Tyrion demanded, dropping his empty goblet and standing up. Sansa stood with him. Bronn shrugged. "I have to find him."

"He jumped off his horse mid battle and ran into the midst," Bronn told them. "Fucker might be dead for all I know."

Tyrion shook his head. "Not Jaime Lannister." Reaching for Sansa's hand, Tyrion led them out of the crypt, Bronn trailing behind them. She squeezed his hand but Tyrion didn't want to look up and find pity in her eyes. Jaime wasn't dead.

"Why would he abandon his horse?" Tyrion asked Bronn. Without waiting for an answer, he approached a soldier in Lannister colours to ask for Jaime's location.

"Saw him go in there about ten minutes ago," the soldier said without removing his head from the wall it was leaning on. Tyrion thanked him and changed their direction, dragging Sansa along with him. 

"Told you he wasn't dead," Tyrion said, his heart lifting. Bronn snorted.

They followed the path that the soldier had gestured to and then asked a couple who were wrapped up in each other. They answered Sansa's questions nervously, apologising for their behaviour in the corridors. Tyrion marvelled at the woman who inspired so much respect.

"This is my room," Tyrion said incredulously as they arrived at the room that the couple had indicated.

"Perhaps he wanted to see you and asked around," Sansa said. Letting go of Sansa’s hand, Tyrion opened his door and did indeed find his brother there.

Wrapped up in the arms of Brienne of Tarth, sleeping soundly. That had not been what Tyrion was expecting; he had thought to find his brother waiting to see him. He turned to Sansa who was smiling softly. 

"Knew he was fucking her," Bronn grunted.

XXX

Jaime awoke to an elbow in the back. Groaning, he glanced out of the window and saw that the sun was rising. They mustn't have even slept for three hours. Jaime turned behind him to find that Brienne was still sleeping. She flinched in her sleep, her mouth moving silently.

"Hey," Jaime whispered, shaking her arm with his one good hand. "Brienne, you're having a nightmare."

She woke immediately, ever the soldier, and pushed him away without ceremony. Letting out a grunt at being flung onto the other side of the bed, Jaime groused, "what was that for?"

Coming to, Jaime watched as the confusion in her eyes turned to recollection. "Sorry," she whispered.

"What were you dreaming about?" he asked in similar tones. She grimaced and shook her head. "Can I," he started, gesturing to the space between them. She nodded hesitantly and he moved closer, placing his golden hand on her hip. “We should go back to sleep,” Jaime suggested.

“How long have we been asleep?” she asked. Jaime loved the sleep in her voice. He’d never seen her or heard her so vulnerable.

“About three hours, I think,” he replied, snuggling further into her warmth.

“What are you doing?” she asked, alarm in her voice. Jaime shrugged against her.

“You’re warm.” He looked up at her and found her looking panicked. Chuckling, he reached up to her face with his good hand and brushed his thumb across her bottom lip.

“I-”

He cut her off with a kiss, soft and gentle against her pillowy lips. When he pulled away, he said, “can I cuddle you now?”

Brienne shook her head but amusement danced behind her eyes rather than panic. “I’m so glad you came,” she whispered and Jaime put his leg between hers. Rather than protest this time, she adjusted herself so that she was more comfortable against him. Jaime enjoyed the way she squirmed, wondering slightly what Brienne would do if she woke up with his cock hard against her thigh. He’d had that dream before.

“I’m so glad I’m here,” he said and she sighed in what Jaime hoped was a pleased way. “Sleep, Brienne. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” she repeated sleepily as she closed her eyes. With a smile, Jaime closed his own.

XXX

When Brienne awoke properly, the sun was high in the sky. Her body did not feel fully rested but, after ten minutes or so of trying to go back to sleep, she gave up and used all her energy on watching Jaime sleep.

“Hey,” he said sleepily, interrupting Brienne’s careful study of his face. His eyes were droopy and his voice was marred by sleep. “You’re too far away,” he told her and Brienne rolled her eyes. Jaime Lannister was snuggling closer into her chest. Maybe she was still dreaming. This was ridiculous.

“Are you going to let me go at any point?” Brienne asked, amused by his clinginess and wary of how long it would last. If it was going to end, it may as well end soon, before it broke her heart. Jaime shook his head against her breasts.

“No, gonna stay here forever,” he declared. His stump was resting against Brienne’s back and their legs were tangled. Brienne was glad that no one else was there. She knew exactly how it looked.

“Why are we in this room?” she asked, rather than voice her thoughts on their situation. Jaime shrugged.

“We were sleepy,” he said, moving his head so that it rested on the pillow rather than her chest. “Why? Whose room is it?”

Brienne shrugged. “I’m not in the habit of visiting other people’s chambers.”

Jaime smirked up at her and then pressed a quick kiss upon her lips. Brienne blinked when he pulled away. She had a sudden feeling that she had done that before. “Did we- did we kiss last night?” she asked, furrowing her brow. Jaime propped himself up on his elbow and pressed a kiss to the space in between her brows.

“I’m very insulted that you forgot,” he teased and then pressed yet another kiss to her lips. Brienne was prepared for this one and kissed him back, enjoying the sensation far more than she ever thought she would, never having fully understood why pressing lips together was seen as pleasurable.

“Piss off,” she replied in her usual tone, but smiling as she pulled away. Jaime looked affronted; she knew it was a front. “You mustn’t have been very impressive.” His eyebrows raised, challenged. Brienne narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips but amusement celebrated in her mind. Hadn't she dreamed of this?

“I assure you, wench, I can be plenty impressive,” he told her, waggling his eyebrows and squirming against her. Brienne felt as though he was trying to be as close to her as possible. If he got any closer to her, they would be one person. Brienne’s face flamed as she considered what that would mean. He noticed - of course he noticed. “What has the famous Maid of Tarth blushing?”

Brienne scowled and he kissed it away. “You can’t just kiss me when you annoy me,” she told him, irritated that it truly was that easy to please her. Jaime grinned, kissing her again.

“I want to kiss you whenever I like,” he told her. Brienne furrowed her brow and Jaime pressed a kiss like butterfly’s wings where her brow creased. She looked into his green eyes and found hope there, rather than amusement.

“Please don’t jape with me,” she pleaded. She wasn’t sure if she could take it, not from him. He shook his head at her. “Jaime-”

He cut her off with a kiss and pulled away. When she opened her mouth again, he kissed it again. “I’m going to kiss you to convince you,” he murmured against her lips. “I never want to stop doing this.”

It was making Brienne dizzy, all the feelings and all the kissing. She pulled away, moving her whole body away from his, although her eyes didn’t leave his. Meaning she didn’t miss the hurt that flashed in those green orbs. “What are you doing?” she asked, sitting up. He sighed, pulling his body upright as well. Brienne's brow creased, a wary feeling pulling up from her stomach and settling in her heart. Jaime was studying the sheets, drawing pictures on them with his pointer finger.

“Brienne, when Cersei said that we were sending troops up north, I was so excited because it meant that I was coming to you,” he told her. His tone was honest but Brienne didn’t trust it. Her feelings were clouding her judgement. And he wasn't looking at her yet. “And I wouldn’t just see you for a little bit, like at Riverrun in that tent or at the dragon pit, but I’d see you for as long as I wanted, whenever I wanted.” Oh, Brienne wanted to trust him, so much. “And I’d see you for long enough to show you that I could be a good man, a man of honour-”

She interrupted him, “you are a man of-”

He looked at her before cutting her off, his eyes pleasing. “No, don’t. Please, let me speak, Brienne,” he said, pushing his hair back from his face, the blond locks an endearing mess. “I could have left Cersei earlier, but I wanted to arrive and impress you. I wanted to arrive with an army and save the day and be a hero that you could be proud of, someone you could - you could love.”

Brienne’s heart stopped. His words would have been enough but the look in his eyes. She wanted to say something, anything, but didn’t trust herself to articulate herself well enough, to make him know how she was feeling.

“Cersei told me she wasn’t going to send troops and my heart dropped because I was suddenly not going to see you. My plans to spend time with you and to be the hero who was worthy of you were all ruined. So, I waited a few days and snuck away, taking an army with me and collecting another from Riverrun.”

Brienne’s lips parted. “You-” He had left Cersei. By his own admission, he had left Cersei for her.

“When we arrived, we charged and found as many white walkers as we could. When we had made enough headway that my unarmed soldiers would be able to find weapons among the dead, I blew my horn for them to join. And then I came to find you.

“Gods, Brienne, I was so scared that I was too late. I was so scared that I would find you dead. When I saw you there, commanding and fighting, my breath left my body and all I wanted to do was fight beside you and protect you and have you protect me until it was all over and we either died or lived.”

He was silent then and Brienne’s mind whirred. She scooted away from him on the bed, putting her head in her hands. What was she supposed to say to that? He had left his sister for her. She had thought she would have to watch him die with Cersei.

“Why?” she asked. He reached his hand across to touch hers.

“I love you,” he said simply. Brienne inhaled sharply. That was the best possible answer to her question and yet it made her feel sick inside. “I think I’ve loved you since Harrenhal.”

Brienne remembered him coming back for her, jumping into a bear pit for her. She remembered how she felt, remembered the exact way her heart had surged and leapt and screamed. “Why?” she said again.

He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you- why do you think you love me?” she asked and his face fell. She wanted to press his lips back into a smile. He shook his head and shuffled towards her on the bed. Brienne moved away, standing up, her hand against her forehead, and Jaime sighed, copying her actions. Brienne stepped toward the window.

“Brienne, I don’t think I love you. I know I love you.” She shook her head vehemently and watched his throat bob. “Please, let me hold you,” he said when she stepped away yet again as he tried to approach her. Brienne stilled and he came towards her slowly, putting a hand and a stump on her hips. “I love you,” he repeated, pressing his forehead against hers. “I love your honour, I love your wit, I love your spirit. I love the fact that you tell me when I’m being a cock and that you’re always bloody right. I love how you talk back to me and how you care for me. I love how frustrating you are and how much you make me want to be a good man. Oh, Gods, Brienne, if only I was the man you think I am. I want to be that man for you.”

Brienne closed her eyes so that she wouldn't have to see his open, trusting eyes and he brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. “Jaime, I don’t - I -” Jaime laughed and Brienne felt her lips twitch. “You are the man I think you are,” she told him, placing a hand on his stubbled cheek. He leaned into it. “You are a man of honour. I see it every time I’m with you.” Jaime made to interrupt but Brienne shook her head, needing to finish before she lost her nerve. “It’s my turn now - don't, don't interrupt me.” She inhaled and formed the words she had known to be true for so long but had never thought to say. “I love you.”

She didn’t really know what to say apart from that. She’d never been able to put these confusing Jaime feelings into words except for to define them as love. Her heart ached. She loved him so much. “I love you,” she said again. He smiled at her, a genuine smile, without teasing or smirking.

“I love you,” he said, pressing his forehead against hers again. Brienne loved the weight of it there, as though he was pressing his love into her. A yearning below her stomach suggested that him pressing love into her wasn't the worst idea. She laughed aloud, in happiness and amusement at their situation. What had she said once? Who would want to die for a Lannister?

“I love you,” she said, letting him start walking them back to the bed. When her calves hit the bed, he repeated it again.

Brienne laughed aloud and he just said it again. She leaned in and pressed their lips together. Kissing him made her weak at the knees. That was why she let him push her back onto the bed, positioning himself in between her thighs. At the look on his face, smirk and hooded eyes, heat pooled in Brienne's stomach.

She tried to sit up and kiss him again but he shook his head. "You're right where I want you," he said, his smirk colouring his voice with teasing. Brienne wanted to say something clever back but she'd never been in this position before. It was all new and scary and so exciting. She crossed her legs under his arse, grinning when his heated gaze fell on her, and, with the muscle in her thighs, forced him to fall forward on top of her.

“Now you’re right where I want you,” she said and he leaned down to kiss the smile off her face, moving his hand to tangle in her hair. She could feel him hard against her thigh and, in a move that her childhood septa would have called wanton, she angled her hips against him, pleasantly surprised when he groaned into her mouth. He moved his hips against hers and moved his mouth from her lips to her neck. Brienne could never have guessed that her neck was so sensitive but, coupled with him angling his erection directly between her legs, she was moaning her name lewdly. When he pulled back, his eyes were almost fully black and his smug smirk was sitting very happily upon his lips. “Why did you stop- Sansa!” Brienne gasped, unhooking her legs from Jaime.

He looked at her oddly. “I’m Jaime,” he teased, pressing his lips back against her neck. She shook her head, pressing her hands against his chest to push him away. “No, Brienne,” he whined and Brienne rolled her eyes, forcing him to stand up and then following suit.

“Who knows what time it is and Sansa will need me. Gods, I don’t even know if she’s alive!” Brienne cried, overcome with a sense of guilt that she had allowed herself to be distracted by Jaime when she should be with Sansa and Arya. “She doesn’t know I’m alive!”

Jaime nodded and Brienne was grateful. “Come on, I need to go to my chambers and get changed.”

It took her fifteen minutes to change into something she hadn’t slept in. By the time they left her chambers, Jaime was grousing that he was going to look a fool in his soiled, battle-weary clothes, his own spares far from Winterfell at the Lannister camp. “Will you stop complaining?” Brienne demanded. “You sound like a green boy.”

“Sorry, am I moaning too much?” he asked, his face lighting up with a wicked grin. Brienne glared at him, ignoring the memory of his lips on her neck and his cock, hard and insistent between her thighs.

“Behave yourself,” she ordered, hoping she was not flushing as fiercely as she felt she was, as they reached the door to the war council, where they had been informed by some servants that Lady Sansa and Arya were, along with others. Jaime mock saluted her and her lips twitched, although she did not let up on her glare.

The room was well packed, but the queen, who was holding court at the top of the table, saw them immediately. Her face lit up and a smile stretched across her beautiful face. She raised her glass. “To Ser Jaime Lannister,” she cried. Brienne noticed that not everybody in the room had glasses, but they all cheered alongside the queen. Fighting a smile of pride, she glanced at Jaime and found him slightly panicked and confused. It was an endearing look on the usually confident man. “We were just discussing how we may all have been dead if it were not for your mounted troops and your archers, Ser Jaime.” Brienne watched as Jamie's throat bobbed and he reached up to rub his stubble. “You and your sister have our thanks.”

That made Brienne stiffen, because this was all Jaime and none of it Cersei. She wanted the whole room to know that Jaime had come of his own accord, broken away from his bitch of a sister and arrived to save them all without a thought to how it would affect him. Brienne wanted all of them to see what she saw.

One look from Jaime, though, had her sealing her lips. It was his ‘secret’, as it were, and she would let him explain it to the dragon queen and the Starks when he wished. Preferably soon, before Daenerys accused Jaime of spying for Cersei and banished him from Winterfell.

The room continued to discuss the battle, what went wrong and what went right. Daenerys did mention that Jaime had almost arrived too late but pardoned him for it. Again, Jaime didn't mention that he wouldn't have been there at all if it were up to Cersei, that he had stolen Cersei’s troops and called down her wrath.

When they had finished, Daenerys asked Jaime to stay, along with Lady Sansa and Jon. Jaime shot Brienne a look that was reminiscent of a man on the end of a sword. “Stay, Brienne,” Sansa said, reaching her hand to her. Brienne took her lady’s hand and squeezed it. They stood side by side as Daenerys turned to Jaime. “I’m glad you’re alive,” Sansa whispered. Brienne’s lips twitched.

“I am glad you are too, my lady,” she returned. Sansa smiled a small smile. Daenerys and Jon stood at the end of the table, Sansa, Arya and Brienne to the side. Brienne noticed that Arya had taken no notice of Daenerys not asking her to stay.

“I am glad you came, Ser Jaime,” Daenerys said. Brienne’s throat tightened. The pleased smile and happy tone were gone, replaced by the ruthless queen that they were fighting to crown. Brienne shot a look at Jaime. He did not look worried, though he should have.

“I am glad to be of service to you, your grace,” Jaime replied, his tone clipped and sure. Brienne felt her stomach wobble. This was not the time to be sarcastic and Jaime-like.

“And now?” the queen asked, a sculpted eyebrow arched. Jaime furrowed his brow slightly.

“Now, your grace?” he said. Brienne almost felt sick. She didn’t want to know what Jaime was going to do now. Couldn’t she have a few days of bliss with him, without thinking of the future?

“Your soldiers came to fight the great war and I am grateful, but we are not finished. Your sister still sits the iron throne.” Jaime nodded once. “You have three days to take your soldiers and leave,” she said coldly. Brienne swallowed harshly. “And I expect we will see you on the battlefield.”

Jaime cleared his throat. “You will see me on the battlefield, your grace,” he said. Brienne’s head snapped to look at him. After all that they had said this morning - “I will be fighting for you.” The tension that had suddenly built inside Brienne dissipated. She could have sighed aloud.

“What do you mean?” the queen asked and her tone invited no stupidity or humour.

“Cersei didn’t send the armies. I stole them.” The queen, and all three Starks, looked at Jaime with incredulity, reminding Brienne that she alone knew the truth of Jaime’s kingslaying, of his honour. “She did not intend to come to fight for you, so I made the choice.”

“And you expect us to believe that you will fight against her now?” Jon asked. His voice was deep and disbelieving. Brienne felt disbelief blossom in her own chest. Jaime nodded once. “What changed?” Jaime cleared his throat but didn’t speak. “At the dragonpit, you were still her animal, doing her bidding. What changed between now and then?”

Brienne felt her face warm as he glanced at her quickly, ignoring the look that Sansa shot her. “I realised that loyalty was not my only option.”

“Fuck loyalty,” Brienne had said to him at the dragonpit. Fuck loyalty and he had left his sister, left her so completely that he would fight against her in the field.

“I do not trust you, Ser Jaime,” Daenerys declared and Brienne didn’t really blame her. “You may stay at Winterfell. Your men may stay at Winterfell but, until I trust you, you will not be allowed to come near our meetings - and you may not fight against your sister’s armies.” Jaime nodded once, stoically. Brienne wondered if that was what he wanted. “You are dismissed.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lots of fluff and a lil bit of smut
> 
> hope you like it!!!

“You have so many freckles,” Jaime said idly, later than same day, lying in bed. Brienne was lounging, completely naked, propping herself up on her elbows. Jaime was angled towards her, his own naked body aligned against hers, using his handless arm to prop himself up. He traced the freckles which decorated her wonderful chest, fingers dancing over her nipples every so often.

“Don’t mock me,” she warned and Jaime’s upper lip tightened, leaning down and sucking a nipple into his mouth.

“How long will it be until you believe that I actually want you?” he asked, annoyance in his tone. She had the decency to look abashed. He stroked her cheek and her eyes flicked back up to him. “Will you join the forces to fight Cersei?”

“Are you really asking me this now?” she asked, her wariness turning to amusement, gesturing to their nakedness. Jaime smirked.

“Well, I wanted to ask you and I have no plans to put any clothes on you all day or allow you to leave this bed.” Brienne laughed and it made Jaime smile, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. She leaned back, relaxing her elbows.

Brienne looked at him, her eyes burning into his skin. “If the queen allows you to go, and Sansa allows me to leave her, then I will.”

Jaime furrowed his brow. “You’d stay here if I can’t go.” Brienne nodded.

“I don’t want to leave you.” Jaime smiled down at her.

“Good,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the nearest piece of skin he could find. “When the war is over, what do you want to do?” he asked, drawing lines on her solid abdomen. She batted his hand away but he ignored her, continuing.

“I am still my father’s heir,” Brienne admitted and Jaime nodded. “Are you heir to Casterly Rock?”

Jaime shrugged. “Technically, yes, because I’m not a kingsguard anymore, since Tommen took my cloak. But I don’t know. My cousin might want it.”

“Do you want it?”

“I want you.” Brienne crossed her arms and Jaime groaned, pulling them away from her chest. “Stop ruining my view.” She pinched her lips and he pressed his own lips to them, pushing himself up on his stump. “I don’t know what I want, Brienne, except you. I’m not my father.”

She shook her head. “I am so glad.” Her tone was facetious and Jaime gave her a mocking smile. “Come on, imagine your life in two years. What do you want?”

Jaime closed his eyes. “Alright, wench, I’m getting my creative juices flowing.” She punched him on the shoulder and then kissed where she’d hit him. Jaime grinned. He could get used to this. What did he want? He imagined his future. Cersei would be dead. It made Jaime’s stomach roll but he shoved it back down. His future would be happy: full of things that he loved and that loved him.

“I want you,” he declared a few moments later, after creating a few scenarios in his mind, Brienne at the forefront of them all. Brienne gave him a condescending smile that made Jaime aware that she didn’t believe him. He rolled so that he was on top of her.

“You’re far too old to be ready to go again,” Brienne teased and Jaime’s lips parted in shock.

“Is this what this is about, wench? You think I’m too old for you? Am I even in your future?” Jaime said all of this in a teasing manner, but he was aware that he was ten-and-four years older than her. She pressed her forehead against his and kissed him. Jaime smiled against her lips and she angled her hips towards his. He felt his arousal stir mightily but shook his head. “Wait, I want to tell you my future.”

“Go on, Ser.”

“In two years, it’ll be a day like this one,” he told her, “although summer will have come. We’ll wake up in a big bed just like this one and you’ll be completely naked because I will have thoroughly ravished you the night before.” At that, Brienne barked out a laugh and Jaime kissed her quickly but ardently. “We’ll wake up and kiss because I love you and you love me and I’ll call you wife and you'll call me husband. Or just sex slave, whatever you prefer.” Brienne inhaled sharply and Jaime grinned, moving his hand to caress her stomach. “And there’ll be a crying babe in the next room and another on its way.”

Brienne’s eyebrows flew up her forehead. Jaime was suddenly aware that he wasn’t even sure she wanted children, that he had made an assumption which could cost him the future he had dreamed up. What if he had just ruined everything? “You would want to have more children?” Rather than sounding wary as Jaime had feared, she sounded in awe. Jaime grinned and nodded, pressing a kiss to her chin.

“I wasn’t sure until I found out that Cersei wasn’t actually pregnant. I suddenly realised that my chance was gone and I- Gods- all I ever wanted was to be a father to Tommen and Myrcella and Joffrey. But I couldn’t and I understood why at the time but I want it now.” He hoped she would understand. He hated talking about Cersei with her. It made him feel dirty; she was too good and true to have to listen to his torrid past. But she was smiling. “Would you- I mean-” Jaime scratched his head, suddenly feeling awkward. “Would you want to have my babies?”

Brienne bobbed her head and Jaime kissed her reverently, taking his time to show her just how incredible she was. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he said, pressing their foreheads together, breathing raggedly. Jaime was pleased to see her cheeks pink at the praise.

“How many babies do you want?” she asked a few moments later, moving her arms around so that her hands lay on his lower back. He smiled and nuzzled against her cheek. She was absolute perfection. He loved her so much.

“As many as you will give me,” he told her honestly and Brienne laughed.

“I suppose it’s a good thing I’m so much younger than you, then,” she teased him.

“That’s twice now you’ve mentioned my age, wench,” Jaime growled. “You’ll give a man a complex.”

She giggled - actually giggled, he could make her giggle - and reached her hand boldly down between them. Jaime cursed. “Prove you’re not too old for me,” she said, arching her back and pressing her hard nipples against his chest and her hips against his growing erection. Jaime growled and pressed his face into her neck and his fingers between her thighs, finding her soaked there. He would never grow tired of this, he realised as she whined out his name.

XXX

“When are we going to marry then?” Brienne asked, sitting between her lover’s legs, sweaty and sated, her head lolled back against a pillow. Jaime smiled, pressing a kiss to her ear.

“Well, given that I’ve already filled you with my seed a good number of times,” he said, his crudeness earning him a tap on the cheek, “I’d say pretty soon, before you begin to swell with child.”

Brienne smiled. A future with Jaime, a child with Jaime, the wife of Jaime. “You know I’ll kill you if I actually am pregnant,” she commented lightly, ghosting her fingers over his muscled thighs. Jaime snorted and nuzzled his face against her neck.

“I don’t seem to remember you stopping me,” he reminded her. Brienne flushed.

“I’ll be of no use if I’m pregnant,” she complained, “just fat and ugly.” Jaime pinched her thigh and Brienne cried out. “What was that for?”

“When you’re in my bed, I’ll have no nonsense talk,” he said, reaching to brush a thumb across her lips. Her too-big lips which hid her too-big teeth. She knew Jaime could see it and he surely knew that flattery would get him nowhere.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jaime.”

Jaime shrugged. “I suppose you will be fat but you will be of use and you will not be ugly, never in my eyes.” Brienne snorted incredulously. “Okay, perhaps once in my eyes, but never in our future.”

Brienne shook her head. “Jaime-”

“Stop,” he ordered her. “You’re in my bed and I am saying you are beautiful.”

“This is my bed.” He grinned and sucked her earlobe into his mouth.

“Our bed,” he amended, brushing his hand over her stomach again. Brienne felt flutters beneath his hand, butterflies swarming in her stomach. To be pregnant with Jaime’s child... “I think this one will be a girl.”

“Jaime, I am not pregnant!” she complained, laughing at his insistence. Jaime laughed, the sound reverberating in Brienne’s ears. He reached down lower, through her curls, and pinched a finger and his thumb around her clit. Brienne let out an embarrassing sound. The sounds he could draw out of her were downright lewd and Brienne suddenly found herself wondering who she shared a wall with - and whether they knew this was her room.

“I suppose you’re likely right. Perhaps one more time will do it.” Brienne’s lips twitched into a grin and she hauled herself around so she could straddle him, delighting in his eyes darkening. If he was going to be this annoying, the least she could do was make him pay for it.

XXX

“We should get married this week,” Jaime said, afterwards, when he was tired and sore and loving the feeling of having Brienne in his arms.

Brienne furrowed her eyebrows at him. “You were serious?” Jaime felt a pang in his chest at her disbelief.

“Of course I was serious.” She pulled away. “I want you to be my wife, Brienne.”

She shook her head and Jaime reached over to cup her scarred cheek. “I would be a terrible wife,” she reminded him.

Jaime pretended to weigh it up. “Well, yes, you’d be a terrible high-born lady wife who does the sewing and organises the household and attends dinner parties, but that’s not what I want. I want a wife in my bed who I can fuck whenever I like - and whenever she likes - and who can teach our children honour and bravery and wisdom and how to defeat any opponent in front of them.” He pulled her to him and she didn’t balk. He pressed a kiss to her nose. “Will you be my wife?”

Brienne smiled and Jaime loved it. She nodded, leaning forward and kissing him softly. Jaime grinned. “Wife,” he said, trying to get used to the word. “I think I’ll always prefer wench.”

Brienne squawked and Jaime laughed, happy and carefree, turning to pin her down on the bed and kissing her until her complaints were non-existent.

XXX

Brienne forced them to get ready for dinner, despite Jaime’s protests that he wanted to stay in bed with her until morning. She reminded him that they had already spent the day abed and that she had duties, even if he did not. He pouted but it got him nowhere. Dressed in her squire’s clothes, Jaime followed Brienne dutifully down to the hall.

It was not a feast, not yet. The atmosphere was somber, mourning. Lady Sansa greeted Brienne immediately and Jaime was struck yet again by how incredible his wench was, that she had found Sansa despite all odds being against her. The younger Stark, Arya, too was at Winterfell. Mutters around the great hall convinced Jaime that it had been the little wolf who had killed the Night King and finished the fighting. She was small but ferocious.

Jaime found himself following Brienne like a lost puppy to the seat that Lady Sansa had saved for her. He was only grateful that there was another seat, one for him, that he would not have to go and sit alone. He supposed he would be able to find some Lannister men somewhere. He should probably see who was still alive. Bronn, surely. Maybe Ser Michel. Jaime had been far more concerned with spending the day fucking Brienne than finding out which of his men had survived the battle.

Receiving funny looks from others around the table, Jaime focused on cutting up his food. He remembered Brienne doing it for him at Harrenhal. He’d improved since then. Tyrion’s voice dragged Jaime from his food. His little brother sat beside Lady Sansa, Queen Daenerys on his other side, conversing with Jon Snow. “You have recovered from the battle, brother?” his voice said. Jaime smiled at him. It had been a long time since he had been in the same place as his brother for long enough to engage in small talk.

“I have, Tyrion. Where did you find yourself in the battle?”

“In the crypts, supposedly safe with my lady wife,” he said and the sardonic tone made Jaime’s lips twitch. Lady Sansa’s stoic face broke slightly, showing some amusement.

“I suppose the dead rose?” Jaime asked, confusion lacing his tone.

Tyrion nodded. “We were so focussed on the army that was coming at the walls of Winterfell that we didn’t consider the recruits lying in wait on the inside.” Jaime snorted. “The lady Sansa, however, proved herself to be quite the warrior.”

Jaime acknowledged the proud tone in Tyrion’s voice. He remembered their marriage and the way Tyrion had said ‘lady wife’ when referring to her. Jaime glanced sideways to Brienne, who was looking upon her liege lady with pride, too. “I am no Arya,” Sansa said, her cheeks flushing slightly.

“Nobody is asking you to be Arya, my lady,” Brienne said, touching her arm. It made Jaime smile to see the close relationship between liege and knight. “You are ferocious in your own right.” Lady Sansa flushed at the praise. “I am sure there are many women and children alive because of you taking up your dagger in the crypts.”

“There are more men alive because of Ser Jaime’s actions,” Lady Sansa deflected. Jaime flinched at the sudden mention of his name, looking up at the Lady of Winterfell. Sansa was not looking at him, however; she was watching Brienne carefully. Jaime felt his cheeks heat and felt as though he was a teenager again. Looking at Brienne, Jaime saw that she had not noticed that Sansa was fully aware of where they had been all day. “I must say, Ser Jaime, when I saw Lannister men in Winterfell I was surprised.”

“I am sure you were not alone in that, my lady,” Jaime replied stiffly.

“Your man, Bronn, he says that you abandoned your horse and soldiers midway through the battle,” Sansa commented pointedly, her eyebrows arching. Brienne shot Jaime a wide-eyed look that made him grin.

“The things we do for love,” Jaime said with an easy smile and rejoiced to hear Brienne inhale sharply and Tyrion splutter his wine. Lady Sansa simply kept her eyebrows raised, not breaking his eye contact. “I came here to fight for Lady Brienne, my lady, so I continued to do that.”

“You’re an idiot,” Brienne muttered, making Jaime smirk. He didn’t know whether she was referring to him jumping off his horse or his comments to Lady Sansa. Probably both.

“You are in love with my sworn sword?” Sansa asked. From the look on her face, it was like it wasn’t new information. But, as he’d only told Brienne this morning, she couldn’t have known. It seemed the Lady of Winterfell had learned from Cersei and Baelish and improved the game. She was a marvel. It was little wonder that Brienne served her so dutifully.

“I am, my lady,” Jaime replied, watching gleefully as Brienne put her head in her hands. Jaime could see that her cheeks were pink beneath her large hands. Tyrion was watching his brother with his mouth open, not even drinking. It was a feat really, that Jaime had been able to surprise him so. “I don’t know when it started. I once jumped into a bear pit with no weapon to save her, maybe it was then. It was surely before you sent her to treat with your uncle at Riverrun. I would have done anything for her then. I assured her escape, you see.” Sansa’s lips were twitching, perhaps at the flush on Brienne’s face. “But I knew for sure when I saw her in King’s Landing, at the dragon pit. She told me to fuck loyalty and, so, I did. And here I am.”

Sansa blinked. A smile had spread across her pretty face. “I am surprised that you never told me of this love story, Lady Brienne,” she teased and Brienne looked at her, her lips opening and then closing.

“It was hardly a love story, my lady,” she said, muttering. Jaime shot her a wounded look and her lips twitched.

“Ser Jaime, I hope you know that my sister and I consider our sworn sword to be an honorary Stark.” Sansa was still smiling but there was steel behind her eyes.

“An honour I am sure she has earned, my lady.”

“It would be no hardship to either of us if Arya were to slit your throat in your sleep should you ever do anything to harm Lady Brienne.”

“I would gladly welcome the punishment if I were to do so, Lady Sansa.” Brienne stared at him, shaking her head. He was glad he still had the ability to surprise her. “But I believe it will be unnecessary. Brienne and I are getting married, you see.”

“You’re what?” Tyrion said, finally finding his voice. Jaime shot a genuine smile at Tyrion. “When?”

“This week was what we agreed, wasn’t it, Brienne?” Jaime teased, stroking her arm. She looked at him with exasperation. He nearly kissed her but figured that would be pushing her too far. And Arya Stark was around here somewhere, probably just waiting for a reason to slit his throat.

Brienne cleared her throat. “We did agree that, but, my lady, if it is not to your-” Jaime narrowed his eyes at her. Was she really going to stop their wedding if Sansa Stark said so? How very Brienne of her.

Sansa chuckled. “I would be pleased to attend, Lady Brienne. We shall have to make arrangements.” Brienne was not smiling. Jaime was. “What will you wear? I could make you a dress.”

“Oh, my lady, you don’t have to-”

Sansa laid her hand on Brienne’s. “Brienne, you have been my closest friend and confidante. You have saved my life and stood by me through my troubles. I would love the opportunity to honour you on your wedding day.” Brienne nodded once, squeezing her liege’s hand. Jaime lay his hand on Brienne’s leg, shooting her a soft smile. “Wonderful. A week today, then, in my mother’s sept.”

How fitting, Jaime thought. Catelyn Stark brought them together and now they would marry in her sept. Jaime saw Brienne’s eyes sparkle with tears and wondered if she was thinking the same thing.

XXX

The next morning, Brienne left Jaime slumbering in their bed, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Sansa had invited her for breakfast to begin their discussions about the wedding and Brienne knew that Arya would be there too, given that the two girls shared a chamber. What Brienne had not expected was to find the dragon queen and her companion, Missandei, with them when she arrived.

“Brienne,” Sansa cried, pulling out a seat for her. The breakfast was practically a feast, making Brienne’s mouth water. The others had begun to eat already, so Brienne dug in. “How are you feeling?” her liege lady asked, a sparkle in her eyes.

“Well, my lady. I had not expected there to be so many of us,” Brienne commented awkwardly. Eating with Arya and Sansa was one thing; having the dragon queen with them was quite another.

Queen Daenerys smiled. “When I heard you were getting married, my lady, I wanted to be involved. It has been a while since we have had such a celebration.” Brienne’s lips twitched into a smile. “I hope we can make the day as special for you as possible.”

“Will you go to Casterly Rock with him, after the war?” Arya asked and Brienne’s lips parted. She should’ve expected the interrogation. “You’ll be Lady Lannister.”

“I am also my father’s heir,” Brienne reminded her. “I will be the Evenstar.” Arya nodded.

“You’ll just have to have a lot of children to fill all your seats!” Sansa said, reaching for Brienne’s hand. Brienne’s eyes widened. She remembered Jaime’s teasing about impregnating her and her lips twitched. “I’m sure you’ve already started.” The sly look that Brienne received made her flush.

“It will certainly make my choice of Warden of the West easier if I decide to trust your betrothed, Lady Brienne,” Queen Daenerys said. Brienne hated being called lady. She supposed she’d have to get used to it. She was going to be Lady Lannister. Brienne nearly groaned aloud. Only for Jaime.

“You can trust him, your grace, although I do understand that trust takes time,” Brienne said earnestly. “He will prove it to you.”

The queen’s lips spread. “His brother told me the same.” She paused and then opened her mouth again. “If you do become pregnant, my lady, you will not be able to fight.” Brienne nodded. She had already considered that. There was no way Jaime would allow her to fight while carrying his child and she would never want to endanger her child in that way.

“Brienne will remain my commander, though,” Sansa said with a smile. “She will do all the administration, organising the battles and tactics. She has more use than just wielding a sword.” Brienne felt tears prick at her eyes and she squeezed Sansa’s hand in gratitude.

“When you have a daughter will you train her with a sword?” Arya asked and Brienne smiled.

“Of course.” Arya grinned. At that moment, the door opened and Brienne’s face fell. Seamstresses walked in with fabric. She was not looking forward to this.

XXX

“Fuck, you took too long,” Jaime panted as Brienne walked into their chambers, covering her parted lips with his own. His cock was hard and insistent against her thigh. She’d been gone for hours but he’d not dressed, waiting for her to return so he could fuck her again.

“Jaime,” she protested as he pushed her back towards the bed, reaching up to undo the laces on her shirt. “I have things to do,” she reminded him, “and so do you.”

“After,” he groaned, pressing kisses to her neck. “Lie down, fuck, Brienne.” Brienne was grinning as she lay back on her bed, despite her protests that they had more important things to do. He kissed her grin away, pulling her shirt off and busying himself with her nipples. He angled his cock so it would hit against her clit, through her breeches. She moaned at the sensation, making Jaime smirk. She was reaching between them, undoing her own laces on her breeches. Jaime didn’t even allow her to take them all the way off, pressing his fingers against her to ready her for him and then thrusting in, filling her. Her groan was surely heard across Winterfell.

When they were finished, sweaty and panting, Brienne pressed her head against Jaime’s and held him where he was, softening cock still in her cunt. “Good?” he panted and she nodded, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“I only came back to tell you that you need to organise your troops,” she groaned as he rolled off her, going to fetch a flannel from the side to clean himself off and then passing her one. Jaime nodded, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

“I know. I’ve been remiss.”

“Your brother wants to see you, too,” she said. Jaime groaned.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Jaime and Brienne fuck on a desk, Sansa is a good friend, a small amount of #angstwithahappyending occurs and Tyrion is a bit of an interfering dick please

“Brienne.” Sansa’s voice coming into her office jolted Brienne from her work. “Am I interrupting?” She was but Brienne found organising troops to be dreadfully dull, especially when she would only receive complaints and probably have to change them again.

“Not at all,” Brienne said, gesturing to the seat opposite the desk. “What can I help you with?” Sansa took the seat with grace, so unlike Brienne who was always so lumbering and awkward. Everything Sansa did was graceful.

“This morning I wanted to speak to you alone but the dragon queen wanted to be involved and Jon wants me to be friends with her, so I thought I’d make the effort.” Brienne’s lips twitched. “I did want to check you were happy, though.”

Brienne felt comforted by the look of genuine concern on Sansa’s face. “I am happy, my lady,” Brienne said. Sansa gave her a look and Brienne smiled. “Sansa,” she corrected.

“I never imagined that you would want to get married and have children. It is what you want, isn’t it? Ser Jaime isn’t putting any pressure on you?”

Brienne almost snorted. Every time Jaime fucked her he mentioned children and Brienne felt a sparkle of excitement inside her each time. “I never thought it would happen, Sansa,” Brienne told her and Sansa smiled. Brienne ignored the pity in her liege’s eyes. “I promise this is what I want.”

“And, if you do become pregnant, what will you do?” she asked. Brienne considered how many times Jaime had fucked her in the past day. If her body was as fertile as her young age promised, she was likely already pregnant.

“Continue to aid you in whatever way I can, my lady, but I will not risk the life of my child.” Brienne’s own mother had died in the birthing bed and as had Jaime’s. Undue stress was not worth the potential pain. Sansa nodded, smiling.

“I would not risk the life of your child, either. I am sure she or he will be very dear to me. I would have you continue the paperwork side of things,” Sansa said, gesturing to the paperwork on the desk, “and I would keep you by my side, as my companion if not my guard.” Brienne smiled. She would be a terrible companion. “Even when you are not wielding the sword yourself, you are invaluable in spotting danger.”

Brienne bobbed her head and Sansa smiled. “I will tell you as soon as I am pregnant,” Brienne told her. Sansa’s lips twitched.

“I assume it will be soon.” Brienne pressed the back of her hands to her cheeks to try and cover the blush. It only made Sansa laugh. “I will let you get back to your work, Brienne. I only wanted to check.”

At the door, Sansa paused and Brienne looked at her questioningly. Sansa shook her head slightly. “I just wanted to say that I hope you will be so happy.” Tears sprang to Brienne’s eyes and she barely nodded before Sansa had left.

Shaking herself, Brienne turned back to the paperwork, stifling a groan. This was not her speciality.

An hour later, Brienne found herself glancing at the door, hoping for a visitor, perhaps Arya or one of the other high-ranking officers in Sansa’s household. Her mind wandered as she glanced outside to see that the sun was high in the sky. She was needed by Lady Sansa in perhaps an hour, although she knew that Sansa would send her maid to fetch her when it was. It was far easier than trusting the sun, Sansa said. When Sansa had finished her discussions about organising the bodies from the battle to be burnt, she would spend time with her sister until sundown, most likely, when Brienne would have dinner with her and Arya. And then she would return to her chambers.

Where Jaime would be waiting. Or so she hoped. She knew he had some things to do but expected that he would be finished before her. A smile played at Brienne’s lips. So domestic. She knew that it was rather romantic of her to say but she loved every part of her new found thing with Jaime. She loved him saying he loved her. She loved telling him she loved him, watching him smile and not smirk or grin. And she loved fucking him.

She’d always assumed, back when she only had her fingers and her imagination, that Jaime would be good in bed. He certainly talked a good talk. Over the past day, he had certainly proved himself. Obviously, Brienne didn’t have any comparison. But she loved being in bed with him, loved the way he made her feel. She’d heard enough talk around war camps to know that sex wasn’t always good. Jaime certainly made her feel good.

Brienne’s face heated as she remembered the previous day. And night. And that morning. Her brief reverie was startled by a knock at the door. Her eyes bulged and she pressed her hands to her face in an effort for them to cool down. The door opened, before Brienne had even asked them in, and revealed Jaime, still dressed in Podrick’s clothes.

She gave him what she hoped was an admonishing look. “You should wait until I say come in. I could have been in a meeting.” Jaime shrugged and sauntered over to her. Brienne misliked the smug look on his face. It never meant anything good.

“You’re not, though,” he said, stood next to her and leaning against her desk, forcing Brienne to arch her neck to look up at him. He took the opportunity and bent down to press a soft kiss to her lips. “What are you doing?” he asked, picking up some papers and then dropping them again unceremoniously. Brienne pursed her lips, reorganising the papers into careful piles.

“Organising the soldiers,” she told him. Jaime widened his eyes mockingly, glancing at the papers again and then back to her.

“Riveting,” he said. “I can think of something more fun to be doing.” Brienne’s lips betrayed her by transforming into a smile at the sight of Jaime’s lascivious grin.

“No, Jaime,” Brienne protested. “I have a meeting in an hour and I need to do this so that I don’t have to do this again tomorrow.” Jaime’s grin did not fade. He pressed a kiss to her lips and lingered this time. When he pulled away, Brienne subconsciously followed him, desperate for more.

“I’ll be really quick,” Jaime whined and Brienne rolled her eyes.

“Is that a brag?” Jaime glared at her and kissed her again. Brienne wanted to give in so much and she truly hated doing the organisation. He moved her chair with some effort and stood between her thighs, which opened easily at his prompting. Reaching for the laces on her breeches, he gave her a look with wide, pleading eyes.

As if Brienne was ever going to say no.

She reached for his breeches too and he grinned, pressing their lips together again, more passionately. “Did you bar the door?” she panted when they pulled apart. Jaime groaned and pulled away. 

“Take your breeches off.” Brienne did as he said, as he backed up towards the door to bar it and then returned to her, stood only in a shirt, leaning against the desk. Jaime grinned and parted her legs again. “Sit on the desk, wench,” he said, raising his eyebrows at her. She gave him a warning look but did as he suggested anyway.

“I’ll kill you if you get anything on that paper and I have to start again,” she said, spreading her legs to give his fingers access. She moaned softly at his gentle caresses, unsurprised that she was already wet for him.

“It’ll be you making the mess, Brienne,” Jaime promised before claiming her mouth again. It always surprised Brienne how efficient Jaime could be between her legs when he was kissing her too. He pulled away and undid his own breeches, just enough to make it possible, but not enough that he couldn’t cover them if someone got through the door.

“Hurry, before someone comes,” Brienne said, grinning and reaching up to kiss him. He flinched and Brienne looked at him curiously. His eyes had gone wide and his lips parted. “Jaime-” But he didn’t let her finish. As quickly as his actions had paused, they started again. He sheathed himself inside her in one thrust, distracting Brienne from whatever had upset Jaime. Brienne let out a whine, covered immediately by Jaime’s mouth. She tightened her legs above his arse and groaned against his lips when she felt him hit something deep inside her, pleasure radiating in waves. “So good,” she muttered against his lips. He smirked. Brienne moved her mouth from his lips to his neck, trying to copy the kisses he had given her there over the past day or so, kisses that were still evident in the marks he had left. She was gratified every time he moaned or bucked his hips wildly. 

Jaime was hissing something in her ear but she couldn’t concentrate. His fingers were rubbing circles around her clit, just the right amount of pressure, and Brienne could feel her climax building. She loved fucking him, so much. He was so good. She loved him so much.

“I love you,” Brienne panted, cupping his face. A smile spread across Jaime’s lips and he captured hers in a searing kiss, covering the grunts and moans escaping from Brienne’s mouth despite their location.

“I love you,” he replied, tenderly despite his frantic actions between her legs. “Are you close?” Brienne nodded tightly, feeling herself reaching the top of the mountain, ready to tumble down to safety in Jaime’s arms. He kissed Brienne again and Brienne tried to pull him closer. She never wanted to let him go.

“I- Jaime-” she cried out, arching her back as he pushed her over the edge, making her clamp down all her muscles on him. He groaned and finished himself, masking his cry of passion in a bite on her shoulder. Breaths still coming ragged and fast, Brienne clenched her legs around him and pushed her hands through his hair as he recovered.

When he started to move backwards and away from her, Brienne shook her head, pressing their foreheads together. “No, stay there,” she pleaded. He gave her a funny look. “What?”

Jaime shrugged, hiding his face in her hair. “You told me to hurry.”

Brienne reached and moved his head so that he was looking her in the eyes. She saw wariness there and furrowed her brow, releasing her legs. She kept her eyes on him, narrowed, while he fixed his breeches and rubbed a hand over his face. Realising he had no plans to make eye contact with her, Brienne tried to find her own breeches, feeling empty and sticky between her legs.

“Right, I’m going to go.” Brienne shot him a wounded look. “You have a meeting and-”

“Not for half an hour at least, Jaime,” she protested, finding her breeches behind the desk and redressing. She tightened her own laces and then approached Jaime to tighten his. He flushed. She met his eyes. “What’s going on? You’re acting strange.”

Jaime shrugged her away, stepping back. “You were in a rush. I should go.”

Brienne shook her head. “Why does it matter if I was in a rush? I didn’t want anyone to find-” Brienne’s heart fell as her face did. Cersei. He must have been told to hurry so many times before. Brienne approached him, ignoring his lowered eyes, and placed her hands on his cheeks. “You can take as much time with me as you like.”

“You told me to hurry,” he repeated. Brienne gave him a sad smile and he returned it. “I’m sorry.” Brienne shook her head.

“No,” she muttered, pressing a butterfly kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry. Please tell me when something bothers you.”

Jaime shook his head, leaning against her desk. “It shouldn’t bother me.”

Brienne pressed a kiss on his lips again. “Jaime, I- she treated you dishonourably.” Jaime snorted and Brienne felt her lips twitch. “Well, yes, aside from the obvious, she treated you as though you weren’t worthy.” Jaime clenched his jaw and Brienne dipped her head to kiss it. “I don’t want this to be a one way thing. I want to be together.”

Jaime nodded hurriedly. “So do I. Gods, Brienne, so do I. I’m sorry that-”

“You have nothing to be sorry for!” Brienne interrupted.

“Wench, let me speak,” he said and Brienne ducked her head. “Cersei used me. From when we were young, all she wanted to be was me, to be able to be a lord rather than a lady, a king rather than a queen. She hated that the only différence between us that she could see was a cock. She spent our whole childhood telling me how we could only ever love each other, no one else. So, by the time she came to my bed, wet and wanting, I didn’t believe anything else. I didn’t think I could love anyone else.

“What she wanted was for me to be completely loyal to her, so that I could do all the things she couldn’t - fight her wars, protect our children with my sword. I became a kingsguard for her, gave up my seat and future for her. If she couldn’t have something, neither could I. And it made her even happier if she could have something I couldn’t. Gods, Brienne, I did truly love her. I thought I truly loved her. I was obsessed by her. She consumed me and then I met you and I lost my hand and I returned to her and I thought she’d changed but it was me who had changed. There were things I wouldn’t do for her. I questioned what she said rather than just do her bidding without thought.

“What I want to say is I’m sorry that it took me so long to break away from her, break out of the obsession I fell under. I always thought we were two sides of the same soul, that I couldn’t be whole without her. But, with you, it’s like you look at me and remind me that I already am whole.”

Brienne was crying by the time he finished, tears slipping down her cheeks despite her eye-burning attempts to stop them. She had never asked for details of his relationship with his sister, never wanted to know. And, now that she did know, it made her so angry that Cersei had been so cruel. She reached up and cupped Jaime’s cheek. “You did some things wrong,” she told him and he tried to duck his head. She kept it firmly in place. “You did some things wrong, Jaime, but I forgive you. I love you. You are honourable and true and I am so proud to be marrying you so that everyone can know how much I love you and honour you.”

Jaime’s face spread in a smile. “I love you, wench,” he said and Brienne scowled. He chuckled. “I’m sorry for being so somber.” Brienne shook her head.

“Be as somber as you like, as you need,” she said, kissing his chin. “You can make it up to me later.”

A grin unfurled on Jaime’s face. “Yeah?” he queried. Brienne nodded, hoping that the smile on her face was playful. “I promise I will,” he said, kissing her.

When Brienne’s meeting started twenty minutes later, she dismissed Jaime with a kiss to his lips. He left her office with a grin still on his face.

XXX

“What has you grinning, brother?”

Jaime hadn’t been two minutes out of Brienne’s office when his brother found him. Brienne had told him that Tyrion wanted to speak with him that morning but Jaime had important business with his troops and, truth be told, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what Tyrion wanted to say.

“I doubt it has anything to do with being in this cold hell, so I’m assuming it has something to do with your bride-to-be.” Jaime did not like Tyrion’s mocking tone but said nothing. Most of the things Tyrion said were mocking. And Jaime knew there would be worse to come. “Were you going to tell me you were getting married?”

Jaime shot a funny look down at Tyrion as he followed him into his chambers. “I did tell you!”

“You told Sansa.”

Jaime shrugged. “You were there. And Sansa is your wife so-”

“Sansa is not my wife,” Tyrion snapped, walking away from Jaime towards his window seat, overlooking the yard. Jaime raised his eyebrows at his back. Touchy. “Anyway, I don’t care about that. I care more about the fact that you left Cersei, stole her armies and came all the way up north. When did you fall out of love with Cersei?”

This question took Jaime more aback. He reached up to scratch his head, settling into the seat opposite Tyrion and glancing out of the window. “Tyrion, you know that that- that relationship was wrong and dishonourable.”

“Yes,” Tyrion said, inclining his head. “I’ve had to watch you suffer through it all my life.” Jaime closed his eyes and opened them again, trying to ignore all of the times he had chosen Cersei over Tyrion, despite her cruelty. “What changed?”

Jaime sighed. “I’ve just spoken about her with Brienne. Do I have to do this again now?” Tyrion gave him a derisive look and Jaime glared. “I was chained up for a year, Tyrion, and then I met Brienne and she reminded me that I could be better. She reminded me of my dreams, of who I had wanted to be and, when I actually did good things, she believed that I could keep doing them and - fuck, is it so wrong for me to want to be a good person?”

Tyrion blinked. “I did not say it was wrong.”

“You didn’t say it was right,” Jaime mumbled, watching the young squires duel in the yard. After a few moments of silence, Jaime turned to Tyrion again. “I don’t want to spend my whole life defending what I did with Cersei. I hate who I was, hate who she made me, but I can be someone better now, make the right choices now.”

“And that’s why you’re marrying her? Because she makes you feel better about yourself?”

Jaime saw red. “I’m marrying her because I’m in love with her,” he snapped. Tyrion merely raised his brows. “I want to spend the rest of my life with her. Yes, she makes me feel better about myself, but not because she condones my actions. She’s not like Cersei. She makes me feel better about myself because she makes me see who I could be if I made the right choices. And she makes me feel better about myself because she loves me. She sees me, sees my past, knows all of my secrets and still loves me, truly.”

Tyrion put his hands up. “Okay, okay, you love her.” That mocking tone again. Jaime’s anger did not leash itself.

“Why do you have a problem with this? Is it because you’re bitter and alone?”

Jaime regretted it the moment he said it. Tyrion furrowed his brow and curled his upper lip. “It’ll be you who is bitter and alone when Cersei kills your bride without a second thought.” Jaime shook his head. “What? Are you going to protect her? A one-handed knight past his prime?”

Jaime scoffed, looking away from his brother’s broken face. “I’ve spent my whole life doing exactly what Cersei wants me to do. I refuse to give up this life because of her too. I am going to marry Brienne and we’re going to have a family.”

“A family that Cersei will hunt down and kill,” Tyrion scoffed.

“Yes!” Jaime shouted, standing up. “Cersei can hunt us all down and try and kill us but Brienne and I will protect this life with our lives. By the Seven, Tyrion, it’s like you want me to be miserable!”

“I want you to be realistic. All you’re doing is angering Cersei. Once you’ve done this, she will never take you back.”

Jaime’s jaw dropped. “You truly believe I am doing this to make Cersei jealous?” Tyrion shrugged. “Gods, Tyrion, I know I’ve been pathetic for years for Cersei but who do you think I am? I love Brienne. I’m marrying her because I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

Tyrion sighed. “Jaime, you have to understand-”

“No, Tyrion, you have to understand,” Jaime said, thrusting his finger into Tyrion’s face, “I am getting married in a week. If you don’t want to be there, don’t be. I’m creating a new family. I don’t need my old one.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> angst, so much angst
> 
> (but also a bit of fluff)
> 
> (and the beginnings of Sanrion coz I love it)

“The queen wants to help with the wedding,” Brienne told Jaime as they ate dinner in their chamber that evening. Jaime raised his eyebrows. “Lady Sansa told me that her brother wants them to be friends and I suppose that it’s a good opportunity for them to get to know each other without politics.”

Jaime groaned. He remembered the pomp of Cersei’s wedding to Robert and even Rhaegar’s to Elia. He had sworn that he would never have a wedding like that - then again, he’d sworn never to wed, and look how that turned out. “What is our wedding turning into?”

Brienne’s lips twitched, reminding Jaime that he wasn’t the only one of the pair to not want a big fuss. He knew Brienne and she would want it to be simple, lowkey, not disturbing anyone. Jaime had the sudden urge to invite the whole of the Seven Kingdoms so that they could look at them and be jealous, look at him and wonder what the hell he had done to get this woman. “I imagine it will turn into a competition between Lady Sansa and Queen Daenerys. I just hope Lady Sansa remembers it is my wedding and not hers. I’d get married like this for all I care,” Brienne said, gesturing to her untucked, open laced shirt, bare feet and breeches. Jaime smiled, imagining her walking towards him like that. He wouldn’t mind. She’d be coming to him as Brienne and not as Sansa Stark’s doll. “Did you get everything sorted today?”

Jaime grimached, remembering his conversation with Tyrion. “I argued with Tyrion,” he told her, glancing away. She furrowed her brow and reached across the table for his hand. Jaime snorted. She gave him a wounded look and flinched back. “Sorry,” he said unapologetically, smiling at her scowl, “isn’t it odd? Just a few months ago we were still insulting each other every time we spoke, snarking at each other, and now we’re a regular couple.” Brienne scowled at him and Jaime grinned. “Not that I mind it. The only reason I ever insulted you was to hide the fact I wanted to fuck you. And to watch your hackles raise. It truly was a lot of fun.”

Brienne breathed out a laugh and Jaime smiled at the sound of it, rasping and ugly and so Brienne. “Perhaps we’ve gone soft.”

Jaime barked out a laugh. He wondered if she had intended her double-entendre. He doubted it very much. “I’ll never go soft for you.”

She threw a bread roll at him and Jaime snickered, loving the way that he could still make her blush. She’d not blushed much at the beginning of their relationship as it were, and then she had blushed a lot, from about the bear pit. He was glad to see that even sleeping with her hadn’t diminished. He supposed over the years he would have to become more creative so that he could see her delightful blushes. He relished the challenge. “What happened with Tyrion?” she asked, her neck still flushed. Jaime groaned.

“You are tenacious, wench.” Jaime reached for her hand this time and brought it to his mouth in a kiss. 

“I am tenacious,” she said, yanking her hand back. “Jaime, what happened?”

Jaime gave her a look but saw that she wasn’t going to give up. “He was being a cynical dick.”

“About me, I suppose?”

Jaime glanced at Brienne and found her uptight again, averting her eyes, looking down. Her jaw was clenched. Jaime wanted to punch Tyrion even more than he had earlier. “Yes,” Jaime admitted. “But he was wrong. He thinks I’m only marrying you to make Cersei jealous. He thinks I’m being an idiot.”

Her lips twitched and she still wouldn’t meet his eye. “You probably are.”

Jaime nodded although she wasn’t watching. “Definitely an idiot. Only an idiot would marry a woman as infuriatingly difficult as you.” Her head snapped up and Jaime didn’t know what he saw behind her sapphire eyes but he rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. “Tyrion was using the experience he has with me: of me being so obsessed with Cersei that I couldn’t do anything but blindly obey her. But Tyrion doesn’t know the me that jumped into a bear pit or screamed sapphires or even the one who killed Aerys. You know that me and I know him too. Tyrion can’t see past my past.”

Brienne’s lips morphed into a sad smile. “You’ll show him,” she said confidently. Always so confident of his honour, of his goodness. Jaime reached for her hand again, stroking the calloused palm and then bringing it to his mouth to kiss it.

“I love you,” he said honestly. She smiled, unsymmetrical and big-toothed and beautiful. And happy.

“I love you.”

XXX

It was the next day when, after having had her measurements forcefully taken by Sansa for her wedding dress, Tyrion confronted Brienne. She wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a confrontation but it certainly felt like it. He led her into his chambers and Brienne recognised them as the rooms where she and Jaime had spent their first night together in Winterfell. She blushed and Tyrion caught it.

“Did you realise this was my room?” he asked wryly. Brienne shook her head and Tyrion barked out a laugh, quite similar to Jaime’s when he forced one, pointing to the window seat. “I’ll forgive you, I suppose.” Brienne took a seat opposite Tyrion, her eyes drawn by the squires training outside the window in the yard. Her whole body was clenched and her hands sat awkwardly on her knees. She moved them to cross under her breasts and then laced them together on her lap. “I wanted to speak to you because you are marrying my brother,” Tyrion said simply after a few moments.

“Yes,” Brienne replied, although she was unsure whether he really required a response.

“I wanted to- You are going to be my goodsister. My brother has made a lot of stupid, cruel decisions in his life. From what I’m told, you are a completely honourable woman whose reputation has the one fatal flaw of being the Kingslayer’s Whore, and, yet, you are going to marry my brother and worsen it. Why?”

“I love him,” Brienne said, scowling. Jaime had warned her that Tyrion would likely speak with her, that he enjoyed making other people’s business his own. She was not ashamed of the way she felt about him but she did not feel the need to tell the whole world. Tyrion nodded, ignoring her discomfort and staying in silence. “I know you think that he’s making a mistake”

Tyrion cut her off, “I have known my brother for a lot longer than you, my lady.” Brienne flinched at the term of address. “I do not believe that, over the course of our entire lives, he has made a decision that was not about Cersei.”

Brienne furrowed her brow and looked out of the window again, spotting multiple Lannister soldiers there. “He stole her soldiers and rode north to get away from her.”

Tyrion hesitated and Brienne wondered if she had got through to him. She really did not know Jaime’s brother well enough to be able to judge his thoughts. “I believe that we got through to him when we showed him the-”

“No,” Brienne interrupted, ire rising inside her. Was it any wonder that no one would believe in Jaime’s goodness even if his brother could not see it? “I got through to him. I made him leave her. You might think I am being naive, and maybe I am, but I believe in Jaime. I believe that he has become his own person. You do not know the Jaime that I know. I assure you that when he jumped into a bear pit to save my life with only one hand and not a weapon in sight, he was not thinking of Cersei. He did not think of Cersei when he sent me away with the sword your father had made for him in order to find Sansa Stark and return her to her brother, her brother and not to Cersei herself.” Brienne was panting lightly with the effort of the argument. She had no desire to cause a rupture between brothers but she also had no wish to listen to Tyrion mar Jaime’s reputation and honour.

Tyrion was silent for a few moments, Brienne staring down at him and not out of the window. “You’re right,” he eventually said. Brienne felt a satisfaction rise in her throat. “I don’t know if this new Jaime that you profess to know. Those actions do not sound like the selfish brother I love. My- my hesitation, my lady, is that I have often hoped that my brother would snap out of his daze of obsession with my sister and protect me against our father and sister and he never has. I have over thirty years of experience of a brother who neither wanted to nor tried to work against Cersei.”

Brienne nodded. “I understand that. He’s done some abhorrent things.”

“Cersei will want you dead for this,” Tyrion said without missing a beat. Brienne snorted. “I am being entirely serious, my lady. You may believe yourself capable of fending off a sellsword and perhaps you are, but she will send her reformulated Mountain or a small army when she realises that her beloved toy belongs to someone else now.”

“Jaime does not belong to me,” Brienne said coldly.

“His recent actions do, my lady. I don’t know what you did to him or how you enchanted him so, but Jaime-”

“Jaime is an honourable man. I did nothing but remind him of who he was, who he could be again. You do not give him enough credit.”

Tyrion sighed. “I understand you are in love with my brother and I understand why. I love him dearly, but I believe you give him too much credit. He may have made some correct decisions in the past few years, according to you, but that doesn’t cancel out those abhorrent things you referred to. At this very castle, he pushed a child from a window-”

“I know,” Brienne cut off. “I know what he has done and I don’t care.” Tyrion’s lips were still parted, his finger still pointed out at her. “I love Jaime for who he is. I don’t just love this Jaime. I love the Jaime who I led south, not in ignorance of his flaws but including them. He can be an idiot. He is an idiot most of the time.” Tyrion chuckled. Brienne did not. “But I love him. You say you love him dearly but you do not forgive his wrongs.”

“There have been many wrongs.”

“There have been many rights too.”

Both participants in the argument were silent. Brienne’s eyes studied a speck of dust in the corner of one of the window panes. “Cersei will want me dead whether I marry your brother or not,” Brienne said, wanting to end the conversation. “She likely already does. I don’t care if she wants me dead. I only want to protect and love Jaime. I want to marry him, for him. Not for his honour or his looks or for his money. I want to marry Jaime because I love him.”

Tyrion nodded his head once, after a few instants staring at her. “Well, then, I suppose I have no choice but to welcome you to the family.” Brienne’s lips twitched. To the Lannister family. “I wish I could say that my father would not approve of you but I rather fear he would. All he ever wanted was Jaime to leave the kingsguard and marry someone to give our family children.”

“Your father would have approved of Jaime marrying a woman who spends her life in breeches, sword in hand?” Brienne asked, a wry smile upon her lips. Tyrion nodded, sipping from his goblet of wine.

“My father would have approved of anyone who helped Jaime to break free of his vows and create an heir for Casterly Rock.” Tyrion paused, drinking more. A smile flirted with his lips. “I suppose you’ve already started on that.”

Brienne flushed but did not deny him. She would not lie to her goodbrother. “Well, sister,” Tyrion said, standing, “I am sure I am going to much prefer having you as my sister to the other bitch.” Brienne smiled without showing her teeth. That had not been a conversation she enjoyed.

XXX

Sansa found Brienne in her office, staring at the papers in front of her. “Lady Commander,” Sansa greeted her. Brienne looked up and gave her half a smile. “I need you to come to a meeting with me.” Brienne nodded and stood immediately, adjusting her sword at her hip as she stood. When she drew close, Sansa put her hand on her arm. “Are you alright? You’ve only been betrothed for three days. You should still be smiling!”

Brienne gave her another half of a smile. “I spoke with my good brother-to-be.”

“Tyrion?” Sansa said incredulously - and redundantly. She cut Brienne off before she could confirm it. “I mean, yes, obviously Tyrion. I assume he didn’t have anything good to say for himself.”

Brienne sighed. “No- he, well-” Sansa looked at her and Brienne began to speak. By the end, Sansa was alternating between clenching her teeth together and sucking the sides of her mouth between them to regulate her anger. “I think we were fine by the end.”

“You should have been fine at the beginning,” Sansa said tersely. “He didn’t have the right to-”

Brienne gave her a look. “He had every right.”

“No,” Sansa cut off. “He didn’t.”

Sansa felt her irritation throughout the whole meeting, eyeing Tyrion with distaste. Brienne protected Sansa physically so the least Sansa could do was protect her emotionally. And she knew that Brienne would do the same for her if the situations were reversed.

When, finally, the dragon queen and Jon declared the meeting over, they all stood, the screech of the chairs against the floor making Tyrion wince. “Lord Hand, I would have words with you,” Sansa said, controlling her voice. She felt Brienne’s hand on her arm and Jon’s gaze on her. She ignored both. Tyrion looked at her, eyebrows raised.

“My lady,” Brienne said and Sansa cut her off.

“Don’t worry, Brienne. This won’t take long.” 

Sansa still did not take her eyes from Tyrion. The others filed out of the room, Jon looking at her strangely and Brienne giving her one final worried look before departing. “How can I help you, Lady Stark?” Tyrion said jovially. Sansa glanced at the door to her solar, still open. She strode over to it and clicked it shut. “Well, this is ominous. Have I done something to offend you, my lady?” 

Sansa did not like the amusement in his tone. She placed her hands on the back of a chair at the table, looking away from him. “You had no right to speak to Brienne in the manner you did. You might have grown bitter but-”

“Excuse me?” His tone was anything but amused now. Sansa pursed her lips. He strode around to the other side of the table, in Sansa’s eyesight. “If you’re going to insult me, you could at least look at me, Sansa.” Well, there went the formality.

Sansa looked at him unflinchingly. “You upset Brienne. She is getting married in a four days. She does not need you-”

“You can be worried about your friend but I cannot be worried for my brother?” Tyrion interrupted her. Sansa glanced away and then at him again, sucking air in between her teeth.

“It is not worrying about your brother if you allude to his future wife that he is still in love with his sister!” Sansa shouted, uncaring of who heard them. “You had no right. You may have become embittered with life-”

Tyrion scoffed and Sansa looked at him sharply. “I have become embittered, Lady Stark? You are certainly one to talk.” Sansa felt her nostrils flare as she inhaled deeply, her lips twisting into a venomous scowl. “Although, let’s be honest, you were never exactly sweet.”

“Murdering my family and forcing my into a marriage did not exactly induce my sweetness, my Lord Hand,” Sansa spat. “This isn’t about our marriage. This is about you wanting your brother to be just as bitter and unhappy as you are. I won’t let you hurt Brienne. She is innocent in all of this.”

“Have you given any thought to the fact that I was trying to protect her?” Tyrion said. Sansa’s face didn’t move, just as she had trained it. “I know my brother and he will run back to Cersei, I assure you. And, when he does, Brienne will be a heartbroken widow to her husband’s proclivities and have to live with the shame of it.”

Sansa shook her head. “Your brother has changed.”

“So everyone keeps telling me.”

“I trust Brienne’s judgment. She wants to risk everything for a bit of love and happiness. You being unhappy doesn’t mean-”

“Where do you get off calling me unhappy, Sansa?” he snapped. Sansa arched an eyebrow at him. “No, I mean it. I’m Daenerys’ hand. It’s what I’ve wanted all of my life-”

Sansa scoffed. “What you’ve wanted all your life is love. Don’t kid yourself into thinking that’s what you’ve got. You’ve got a bit of power but you’re going to spend the rest of your life pulling Daenerys’ reins when she steps too far towards what her father was.” Sansa watched as Tyrion’s hackles raised, his eyes bulging and his lips stretching as his jaw clenched.

“I did want love, once, but, after I lost two wives, I figured that it was a bit much to ask the Gods for.”

Sansa shook her head. “Nobody gives up wanting to be loved.” Especially after only two marriages. Sansa would know something about that.

“Speaking from experience?” Tyrion spat at her. Was she so easy to read? Had she learned nothing? Sansa clenched her jaw and crossed her arms, leaning back so that her entire posture showed Tyrion just how pissed off she was. Let him read that. “Is that what this is about? You want to believe in love so much that you’re encouraging Brienne to go into a marriage that will ultimately fail. I suppose then you’ll have her back so that she can love and adore you. That’s what you want isn’t it, Sansa? Everyone to love and adore you.”

“I suppose that would make us a twin set,” Sansa spat. Tyrion smirked and Sansa hated him for his cynical humour, that he could smile in the midst of an argument. “You said that once, didn’t you? The disgraced daughter and the demon monkey. Perfect for each other.” Sansa looked away.

“And now equal in our unhappiness.”

Sansa’s eyes snapped back to him and he raised his hand as though he had a goblet in hand to make a toast. Anger still burned in her veins at the way he had spoken to Brienne and now the way he had spoken to her. Even still, she dropped to her knees in front of him. His eyes flashed and he was about to open his mouth to speak again when she kissed him.

XXX

“Do you know what the next move is, milord?” Ser Michel Prester asked Jaime when he called together his commanding officers that afternoon. Jaime sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hand.

“I do not,” Jaime said. “For the moment, Queen Daenerys does not trust that we are not going to return to Cersei. I know that it is a difficult position to be in but I’m going to prove our worth to the dragon queen and we will come out on the right side of this war, with the rightful queen on the Iron Throne.”

There were cheers around the room. Jaime surveyed them and wondered when Cersei had turned her own army against her. “I’ve sent a raven to Highgarden, where Ser Addam Marbrand commands. Hopefully we will have ten thousand troops here within a few months.”

There were cheers again and then some of the commanding officers had some suggestions that Jaime accepted quickly. “Are we done?” he asked what felt like an hour later. He had always hated these meetings of commanders trying to be more than they were, trying to outdo each other.

“Who do you want to replace you for your time off after the wedding?” Ser Michel Prester asked, a sly smile adorning his lips. Jaime snorted and a smile grew on his lips. He wondered if Brienne had organised anything or if she was going to go straight back to work guarding Sansa the next day, hopefully walking bowlegged. Jaime suppressed his smirk.

“I will talk with my betrothed and decide how much time we are having off after the wedding.”

“Whipped,” Bronn coughed. Jaime gave him a sidewards glance that he hoped came off as a glare.

“Dismissed.”

Jaime leaned against the chair next to him as the soldiers filed out of the tent. “You’re a dick,” he said to Bronn when they had dispersed. Bronn snickered.

“You reckon she’ll have any time off?”

Jaime snorted. “No. She’ll see it as a waste of time.”

Bronn shot him a look as Jaime restrapped his sword to his waist, struggling somewhat with the buckle. The two men left Jaime’s unused tent and headed back into the grounds of Winterfell. “A waste of time, fucking? Who is she?” Jaime gave him a wry look.

“She’ll want to be protecting Sansa. It’s what she does.”

“You mustn’t be fucking her well enough,” Bronn declared. Jaime glared at him, his cheeks warming as the guards at the gate of Winterfell stared at them both. Jaime hushed Bronn but he ignored it, as usual. “I’m just saying, if she doesn’t want to have a week off for you to fuck her into the next one, she mustn’t think a lot of you.”

Jaime scowled. He knew that what Bronn was saying wasn’t true but it did hit home slightly. “I’ve not spoken to her yet. Let’s not speak too soon.” Bronn rolled his eyes, looking away to where young squires were sparring in the yard.

“Oh, well, if it isn’t my favourite Lannister brother.” Bronn’s voice alerted Jaime to Tyrion tottering over to them. Jaime pursed his lips and turned to Tyrion, furrowing his brows when he saw the panic on his face.

“I need to talk to you,” Tyrion said urgently.

Bronn wasn’t invited but it didn’t stop him joining them as the three of them sat down at the small table in Tyrion’s chambers. Tyrion poured them each a goblet of wine, not bothering to savour it before drinking the lot of his. Jaime glanced at Bronn who rolled his eyes as they sat down, leaving Tyrion a chair opposite them. “Before you have another one, you prick, what did you want us for?” the sellsword said.

Tyrion winced, glancing away. “Well, to be fair, I didn’t want you at all.”

“I’ll just go and kill myself then shall I?” Bronn said with a grin, looking at Jaime. Jaime snorted. “Come on, you dramatic fucker.”

Tyrion sighed, pouring another drink and sitting down. Jaime furrowed his brow at his brother. This behaviour - the drinking - was nothing new but dragging them to his chambers to do so was. Jaime hoped that whatever Tyrion had to say sated his curiosity.

“I fucked Sansa.”

Well, that would do it.

“What?” Jaime said, lurching forward so that his chest hit the table. Bronn chuckled lowly.

“I knew it,” he said triumphantly, pointing at Tyrion. “I knew you wanted to fuck her! I told you so. Look at me, getting things right all over the fucking place. Knew you wanted to fuck the big one-” Jaime scowled “- and now I’m right about him wanting to fuck his lovely wife. It’s no wonder you pay me so well.”

“I’ll pay you with a sword up the arse in a minute,” Jaime grumbled, not taking his eyes from his brother who was in the process of pouring his third drink. Bronn snorted.

“How are you gonna do that, Lannister? You’re about as much use as a fat pig with a sword.”

Jaime would have resented that comment and reminded Bronn about storming through a battlefield full of wights to reach Brienne and living to tell the tale, but he was worried about Tyrion. “I’ll get Brienne to do it,” he said quickly, ignoring Bronn’s howl of amusement. “What the hell, Tyrion? When did you fuck Sansa Stark?”

“About an hour ago,” Tyrion said after another gulp of wine. “On the table in the meeting room.” Jaime’s jaw dropped. He ignored Bronn’s snickers beside him. On the table in the meeting room. His brother had fucked Sansa fucking Stark on the table in the meeting room in the middle of the afternoon. “She started it.”

That didn’t surprise Jaime as much as it might have a few years ago. Sansa Stark was special to Tyrion and he had no desire to hurt her, Jaime knew that much. That he’d harboured feelings for her, he had not known. “You- I didn’t know you-”

“I don’t!” Tyrion cried, taking another gulp of wine. “This is the thing, Jaime, I’ve thought about her since she left King’s Landing, of course I have,” he rambled, drinking between words, “but I never thought that I feel anything for her. It was good to see her, yes. I was glad that she was safe, that she was smiling. She never smiled when she was my wife-”

“Slow down,” Jaime interrupted. “You’re thinking too much.”

“You don’t think enough.”

Jaime rolled his eyes at that. “Tyrion, what are you going to do?” Tyrion looked at him, his mouth open and eyes staring at the wine.

“I don’t fucking know,” he said, taking another drink.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning: there be angst

“You look nice,” Jaime said, watching Brienne watch the room. They’d found themselves a nice seat close enough that Brienne could keep her eye on Sansa while also enjoying the meal together. Sansa had told Brienne that she was perfectly fine with her brother and sister at her sides - and the dragon queen and all her retinue - and that Brienne should enjoy a night with her husband. Jaime had earned himself a scowl from both Sansa and Brienne when he waggled his eyebrows at the former.

“What do you want?” Brienne said, not taking her eyes off Sansa. Jaime narrowed his eyes at her and she turned to him at his silence. “You’re never nice to me outside of bed. What do you want?”

Jaime scoffed. “I resent that. I was  _ very _ nice to you in your office just two days ago.” Jaime grinned wickedly as Brienne’s neck flushed. “You do look nice though. I like it when you wear blue.” Her lips twitched upwards slightly. “I like it  _ better _ when you wear nothing-”

She hit him in the stomach.

“I have gossip,” Jaime said a few moments later. Brienne groaned. “Stop watching Sansa. We both know I’m a better view.” Brienne turned her gaze on him and he smirked, scooching closer to her. Everyone at Winterfell knew that they were betrothed, so Jaime didn’t see the harm in showing his affection. He lay his hand on her thigh, underneath the table, where no one could see. Her eyes bulged. Jaime rolled his eyes. “Come on, I have gossip.”

“I don’t like gossip.”

Of course she didn’t. Jaime shook his head. “You’ll like this gossip, I promise. It’s about  _ Sansa _ .” He lowered his voice for the last bit. Brienne’s head whipped around to Jaime very quickly. “You know, it’s going to start hurting my feelings if you only ever want to talk about Sansa. I feel rather second best.” Jaime was teasing and Brienne knew it. She rolled her eyes dramatically. 

“Anyway, the gossip,” Jaime started, nodding at the Lady of Winterfell who was in deep conversation with her sister at the high table. “Your lady Sansa fucked my brother this afternoon.” Brienne’s jaw dropped. Jaime grinned. “On the table in the meeting room.” Brienne’s mouth gaped at him. Jaime wanted to kiss her.

“Is she okay?” Brienne asked and Jaime made a face, narrowing his eyes and furrowing his brow. He glanced at Sansa, who was smiling at her sister, and then back at Brienne who was worrying her lip. “I mean, she looks okay. Is she?”

“I think so. Tyrion said she initiated it,” Jaime said slowly, watching Brienne looking at Sansa desperately. “Brienne, what is it? Come on, this is great gossip.”

“Sansa- I am just surprised,” Brienne said, her face softening. “It’s good.” Jaime raised his eyebrows at her. “I’ll speak to her tomorrow.”

“You speak with Sansa Stark about sex?” Jaime said, surprised. He had always assumed their relationship, while friendly, was rather professional. He was betrothed to Brienne and sometimes he found their relationship professional. She was a professional sort of woman.

“Yes,” Brienne said, a teasing smile at her lips. “Worried?”

Jaime scoffed. “I am fully aware I have nothing to worry about. And, even if I did, you wouldn’t have anything to compare it to.”

That earned him another slap on the stomach. Chuckling, Jaime kissed her on the cheek. She flamed scarlet and hissed, “Jaime,” at him. Her slightly upturned lips suggested she wasn’t completely angry, though. On the contrary, Jaime thought she might have been quite pleased.

**XXX**

“So, I was supposed to ask you earlier,” Jaime said, fiddling with the laces on his shirt so obviously that Brienne automatically came over to assist him. She made a sort of humming noise to show she was listening while she undid his shirt. “I went to see my soldiers today and they were asking if I would be taking time off after the wedding. I said I didn’t know.”

Finished with his shirt, she reached for his breeches. Even after quite a few days of this, it did not fail to turn Jaime on, despite the innocent nature of her help. Jaime took off his shirt while she helped him, glad that Brienne had remembered to add wood to the fire before they left the chambers that morning. Brienne furrowed her brow. “Why don’t you know?”

Jaime faltered. When he’d played out this conversation in his head, he had assumed she’d scoff and ask why on earth they would have time off. She would say that there was no need, that they had things to do, a war to prepare for. And what would they do on their week off anyway? Jaime had assumed he would then fuck her to show her what they would do on their week off and she would be happy but still refuse to take time off. Jaime had imagined himself being able to convince her to take one day off.

He did not expect questions that he had not had time to prepare for.

“Erm- well-” She looked amused at his stuttering. Jaime glared at her twitching lips. “I didn’t think you would want to take a week off.”

She furrowed her brow at him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

All these questions. It was as if she thought he was a maester or a mindreader. “Because it’s you!” She quirked an eyebrow. Her lips had stopped twitching. “I just mean, you know, I thought you’d want to look after Sansa.”

“Jaime, I made a vow to Sansa-”

“Exactly-”

“- but I love  _ you _ .” That brought Jaime up short. He knew that she loved him. He didn’t expect that to make a difference to their plans. His lips parted. “Have I rendered the great Jaime Lannister lost for words?” Jaime sniffed a laugh at her teasing but stayed silent. Her amused look turned to concern. “Jaime, what’s wrong?”

Jaime shook himself and then shook his head. “No, nothing, I’m just surprised.”

She furrowed her brow. “Jaime, you know you’re the most important person in my life. Why would I not want to spend a week with you? All you had to do was ask. I’m marrying you. You’re going to be my husband. You’re the most important person in my life,” she repeated. Jaime nodded with a smile.

“I-”

“Am I not yours?” Jaime watched Brienne’s face go cold as she asked the question. It took a second for Jaime to realise what she was asking him. “You’re thinking that you mustn’t be the most important in my life because I’m not the most important in yours.” Jaime hated -  _ hated _ \- the look on her face. It reminded him of the way Catelyn Stark had looked at him when he spoke about Cersei when she had released him. It reminded him of the way  _ Brienne _ had looked at him before he’d jumped into a bear pit, before he’d screamed Sapphires.

“Who else would be?” Jaime snapped, annoyed. Would she ever trust him? He had told her that he loved her, had told her about Cersei, about their horror-show of a relationship. Was she really accusing him of loving Cersei more than her?

Brienne was silent. Jaime ignored his urge to speak. He said stupid things when he was angry. Brienne said stupid things when she was insecure. “I spoke to Tyrion today.”

Jaime rolled his eyes to the sky. “And what, Brienne? Did he tell you how I would never fall out of love with Cersei? Did he tell you that I was obsessed with her and that I would do anything for her, that I became as fucking hateful as her?”

“Yes,” Brienne shouted and Jaime stepped back, reaching for his shirt from the floor. She’d long since finished undoing his laces.

“And you believe him over me?” Jaime  _ hated _ this. He hated it so fucking much. The one person in the world that he trusted to believe in him without a doubt, in everything, was doubting him. After everything. “If you trust him over me,  _ Lady _ Brienne, why don’t you just go and fucking marry him instead?” Jaime felt irrationally triumphant when she scowled. The triumph covered the squirming, horrible feeling in his heart at seeing her do anything but smile.

“I’m not saying I believe him,  _ Ser _ Jaime,” she spat. “I’m just scared that you don’t know what you’re getting into, that you’re going-”

“To what?” Jaime interrupted, pointing his shirt at her. “To leave you? To run back to Cersei? Are you going to lie awake at night waiting for me to leave you for the rest of our lives, Brienne?” Huffing, Jaime threw his shirt over his head.

“What are you doing?” she said, her voice wobbling. Jaime turned away from her, hating the insecurity and fear in her eyes. She thought he was going to leave her for Cersei. A huge part of Jaime told him to stay. She was scared of him leaving and he was going to leave her. But not for good. “Where are you going?”

“Not to Cersei, not that you’d believe me,” he spat, striding over to the door and leaving through it, with one final look at Brienne. Tears pooled in her eyes. Jaime felt his own eyes prickle and slammed the door before they filled.

He stalked to Tyrion’s chambers. His brother was more trouble than he was worth. Why -  _ why _ \- had he spoken to Brienne? Jaime banged as hard as he could on Tyrion’s door, ignoring the guard posted outside. The door was barred, as Jaime discovered when he attempted to just shove his way in. “Who is it?” Tyrion’s voice said from the inside.

“Open the fucking door,” Jaime demanded. His irritation was coiled under his skin. If his brother took any longer to unbar the door, he’d be taking it out on him. When the door was finally opened, Jaime barged past Tyrion and into the room. “Why the fuck did you talk to her?”

Tyrion’s mouth gaped slightly. “Brienne, I assume.” Jaime hated Tyrion’s smug little voice, hated the way he didn’t understand how angry Jaime was. “Sansa’s already shouted at me for that conversation today. Please don’t you start, Jaime.”

Jaime clenched and unclenched his hand, the muscles aching to sink into Tyrion’s broken little face. “You did this. You made her think that I don’t love her,” Jaime’s voice cracked and he hated himself for it. Tyrion’s eyes bulged and Jaime hated that too. “She thinks that she isn’t the most important person in her life. I thought she would prioritise Sansa over me and now she thinks that I don’t love her.”

Tyrion’s mouth flapped open and closed like a fish. “Jaime-”

“You put these thoughts in her head! You told her that I would never love anyone but Cersei.”

“I’m not sure I said exactly that,” Tyrion muttered. Jaime whirred over to his brother, desperate to hit him and get rid of this anger, at himself, at Tyrion, at Brienne, although admittedly the latter was fading. “If she is this worried, the thoughts were already there.”

Jaime went blind with anger. A cloud descended over his mind. “You bastard,” Jaime spat. There was a knock at the door. Jaime felt a bit of sick pleasure at the look of relief on his brother’s face. He was glad he was making him uncomfortable. Tyrion tottered over to the door. Sansa was there, looking between them, lips parted.

“Have him,” Jaime hissed as he stormed out of another set of chambers, not looking back to see if Tyrion had tears in his eyes like Brienne had.  _ Brienne _ .

Jaime found himself in the yard a while later, having wandered aimlessly. He couldn’t go back to Brienne, not when he didn’t know what to say to her, and he’d never actually got himself his own chambers. He supposed he could go back to his tent with the Lannister soldiers, but then he would have to deal with Bronn and Jaime really wasn’t in the mood. Unlike with Tyrion, Jaime couldn’t be sure that he could beat the stuffing out of Bronn.

Jaime let himself collapse onto the bench beside the training sword rack, his head falling into his hand. He and Brienne had had such a nice dinner. He’d made her laugh really loudly and everyone had looked at them and she’d hated it but he’d grinned and told her how much he loved the way she laughed. Her eyes had lit up. Her eyes were so beautiful.

She was so beautiful. So Brienne.

Jaime groaned out loud.

"I think my lady would think me quite discourteous if I did not ask you what the matter was, Ser Jaime," a voice interrupted.  _ Gods, he spoke just like her _ . Jaime looked up to see Brienne's squire Pod watching him with concern in his eyes.

Jaime snorted. "You  _ are _ her squire, aren't you?" Podrick looked at him, confusion replacing concern in his eyes. "Ignore me. You shouldn't be talking to me. Brienne is pissed at me and you're her mini double so you should be pissed too."

Podrick furrowed his brow. "What did you do?" Jaime groaned and slapped the wood of the bench next to him. Podrick took a seat, resting his sword between his legs. 

"Better men than you have lost balls doing that," Jaime commented and Podrick dropped the sword, making Jaime snicker. Then, when Podrick turned his raised eyebrows and hard eyes at him, Jaime told him everything about his argument with Brienne.

"So, basically, she thinks I'm still in love with Cersei and I'm going to have to spend the rest of my life telling her I don't and she'll never believe me and our whole lives will become this farce of-"

"Stop being a dick," the squire said. Jaime blinked. "You don't  _ have to _ spend the rest of your lives telling her that. You get the privilege of it." Jaime swallowed at the tone in Podrick's voice. "She's spent her whole life being told she isn't good enough to be who she is. She wasn't good enough to be a lady so she became a knight but she's not good enough to be a knight because she is a lady. She's spent her whole life fighting for a place in the world where she feels comfortable and you're expecting her to just believe that you've given up everything that you've ever fought for to be with her. Did she- did she tell you about the ball her father threw for her?"

Jaime furrowed his brow, shaking his head. Brienne hated balls. Surely his father knew that.

"She is her father's heir and her father needed her to provide an heir for after her. So he threw a ball and people came to vie for her hand." Jaime felt his heart sink. "Look, I shouldn’t be telling you this but I’m not sure if she ever will, so just listen.

“People danced with her all night. Boys said nice things to her and made her feel as though she was beautiful. They threatened to duel each other for the right to dance with her. They told her they wanted to marry her and take her back to their castles. And she believed them.” Jaime closed his eyes against what he knew Podrick was about to say. “It was all a joke. They started sniggering at her, calling her Brienne the Beauty.”

“But that must have been years ago,” Jaime protested. Surely she could see that she was so much more than the way she looked, more than what those stupid boys had told her. Podrick nodded.

“But don’t you see? Her whole life has just been a repeat of that.” Jaime thought of the words he said when he met her, the way he had treated her. He remembered what she had said about knocking men like him into the dust. “She is the truest, most wonderful knight in Westeros and she is mostly aware of that, but, when it comes to love, she doesn’t think she deserves it. She doesn’t think she fits into that world. So, yes, if you have to spend the rest of your life convincing her-”

“Then, that’ll be that,” Jaime said firmly. “You’re right, Pod. She- oh fuck- right, okay, thanks Pod.” Jaime scrambled up from his seat, patting Pod on the head awkwardly. He scurried away hurriedly, turning back just once, to say, “you’re a good man, Podrick.”

**XXX**

“You didn’t have to knock,” Brienne said coldly when she opened the door to Jaime, who shuffled into the room. Jaime shrugged. Brienne closed the door, staring at it for a moment to try and put her emotions back into place.

“I didn’t know if I was welcome.” Brienne felt her face soften. He stood by the fireplace. Brienne took a seat on the longue chaise opposite, her knees pressed together to stop the shaking. “I spoke to Pod,” he said, looking at her with his piercing green eyes. “Well, I spoke to Tyrion first but that was more of a shouting match than a conversation. Pod, he told me about the ball.” Jaime moved to sit down next to her. Brienne flinched away, a feeling of cold rushing through her chest.

“He shouldn’t have.”

“I’m glad he did.” Jaime reached and placed his hand on Brienne’s knee. “Brienne, I love you. You  _ are _ the most important person in my life. Everything I do, I do for you. I want you to know that I understand why you think I’m going to go back to Cersei. I truly do. But I’m not.” Brienne clenched her jaw, looking away from him purposefully. “I don’t care if I have to tell you that every morning and every night for the rest of our lives. I love you and I want to spend my life with you.”

Brienne wanted to shuffle closer to him on the chaise. She wanted to shuffle away so she was pressing up against the arm. She stayed where she was. “I know you’re scared,” Jaime said, brushing his thumb across Brienne’s knee. “And I understand. Gods, Brienne, I know I’m not good enough for you and I’m scared that one day you’re going to realise that and leave me. That’s why I didn’t think you would want to have time off after the wedding. I didn’t think I was the most important person in your life because I know I don’t deserve to be.”

Brienne took his hand in both of hers and brought it to her mouth, kissing it. He smiled softly. Brienne moved closer to him. “I love you,” she whispered. “I promise to do better.” He shook his head.

“No,  _ I _ promise to do better. I’ve never- Brienne, this is new for me too.” Brienne frowned and nodded. She knew it was. She knew that Cersei had treated him like shit, that it hadn’t been an equal relationship, but that he’d adored her anyway. Brienne was not going to do that to him. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Brienne let him kiss her, his hand worming out from her hands and caressing her cheek.

“You can finish undoing my breeches now, if you’d like,” he said cheekily when he pulled away, his eyes dark. Brienne’s laugh bubbled out of her.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, reaching for his laces. Jaime waggled his eyebrows at her, reaching his hand to her face again and bringing her to him for a searing kiss.

“I love you, Brienne,” he said, looking into her eyes so earnestly that, to Brienne’s horror, she felt the tears from earlier returning. She pressed another kiss to his lips and let a few tears fall. His lips brushed a butterfly kiss against one as it reached her chin. She refocused on his breeches, finishing his laces and pulling back, kissing him.

“Take me to bed,” she muttered against his lips.

**XXX**

“How can I help you, Lady Sansa?” Tyrion said when Sansa had entered his chambers, the sound of Jaime slamming the door still resonating. Sansa had bugs crawling beneath her skin but she forced herself to stand still. She had sat in her chambers for half an hour deciding what she would say in this conversation, playing out a hundred different scenarios so that she was fully prepared.

She placed herself on the window seat, her knees pressed together and her hands clasped on the crease between her legs. Tyrion came over to join her, sitting opposite. It was just as Sansa had imagined in her mind. “I wanted to talk to you,” Sansa started, not feeling nearly as confident as she was making herself sound. Tyrion nodded, his face completely still. Sansa could not read him. “This afternoon was a surprise to me.”

“It was to me as well, my lady.”

His use of my lady actually helped calm Sansa’s nerves. If she was just his lady, the stakes were lower. If she was his lover, the stakes were far higher. “I enjoyed it.” Tyrion’s mask broke and his lips twitched.

“I did as well, my lady.”

“I didn’t expect to enjoy it.” Tyrion’s mask rose back up over his features. “When I say that, I don’t say it as though I had imagined it before. I hadn’t, truly, not since we were married. But I had imagined laying with someone again and I had not expected to enjoy it.” Tyrion’s face didn’t change. Sansa wondered how much he had heard of her marriage to Ramsay. “I have had sex more times than I recall, Lord Tyrion. I was married to Ramsay for a long time. It felt that way when I was living it.”

Tyrion swallowed. Sansa kept her eyes fixed to his bobbing voice box. “Sansa-”

Sansa cut him off before she lost her nerve. “Ramsay raped me every night that we were married. It was rape even though we were married. I was his wife without consent and I did not consent to our sex. It hurt. It hurt so much that I could not imagine anyone enjoying it, ever. I could not imagine him enjoying it. It was like being torn apart inside, every night.”

“Sansa, I’m so sorry.” His face showed that he was. His mask had fallen. Sansa did not allow hers to, even in spite of the subject matter. If her mask slipped, her emotions did too.

“I wanted to tell you so that you understand when I say thank you.” Tyrion’s brow creased. “You made me realise that I can live a life like any other lady and get married and have heirs. The thought of that had been making me want to tear my hair out, to scream and run away, but I’m not scared anymore. I can marry someone and live my life like I would have before Ramsay.”

Tyrion gave her a tremulous smile. “I’m very glad to have been of use, my lady.” Sansa had expected him to make some sort of joke there, so she was unsurprised. She allowed him a smile. “Will you wait to wed?”

“No,” Sansa said. Tyrion’s face changed into surprise.

“Who will you wed?” he asked.

“I wanted to wait until I found someone who would make me happy-”

“Then you should,” Tyrion interrupted. Sansa ignored him.

“But then I realised I have already found him.” Tyrion glanced outside to the empty yard. Sansa wished she could read his mind.

“Who is it? A Northerner?”

Sansa’s lips twitched. “No, my lord. I was rather hoping you would do me the honour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am midway through (started about a week ago with very little actually written) chapter 8 of this so hopefully next chapter will be up soon


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> starts as the last chapter finishes but from Tyrion's perspective not Sansa's! Hope you enjoy. I hope to have finished chapter 9 by Thursday so I can put chapter eight up xx

“I wanted to wait until I found someone who would make me happy-”

“Then you should,” Tyrion interrupted. Sansa ignored him.

“But then I realised I have already found him.” Tyrion glanced outside to the empty yard. He wondered if the man she had chosen was a knight, one of her own perhaps.

“Who is it? A Northerner?” he asked curiously. Perhaps a Glover, to affirm that alliance. Sansa would not have ignored the politics of marriage.

Sansa’s lips twitched, making Tyrion feel as though he was on the outside of a joke. “No, my lord. I was rather hoping you would do me the honour.”

Tyrion’s jaw dropped. Perhaps he was not on the outside of the joke. Perhaps he was the joke. “My lady, you jest.” Tyrion remembered fucking her on the table. She’d been so beautiful, more beautiful than any other woman he’d taken to bed before her. She’d been so responsive and easy to please. And so honest and real, something Tyrion was not used to. Whores were so fake. Tyrion had simply become accustomed to that. Realness was not something Tyrion expected from Sansa either. Her mask was so well fixed. It had come off with her dress.

“I do not jest, Tyrion.” She’d dropped the ‘my lord’ business that Tyrion had started when she entered the room to ensure a safe distance between them. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable. “Who else would I want to marry?”

Tyrion could name probably ten men at Winterfell at that moment more suited to Sansa than he. And then there were more that he could name from Jaime’s camp. All younger than Tyrion, taller than Tyrion, better men than Tyrion. Sansa reached across and put her hand on Tyrion’s knee. Tyrion gaped down at it in horror. “I thought we could make each other happy,” Sansa said. She was still wearing her mask but Tyrion understood that better now that he knew about the horrors of her marriage to Ramsay.

They could make each other happy. They would be friends. They would get on and probably argue sometimes but mostly happy. 

It would be so easy for Tyrion to fall in love with her. So painful when she didn’t fall in love with him. Although, the fantastic sex might help with the pain.

“Sansa, you’ve not properly thought about this.” She quirked an eyebrow. “Yes, we had really fantastic sex and we were married once so I suppose it all makes sense but-”

“But what?” Sansa cried out. Tyrion blinked, surprised at the outburst. “You said you were unhappy despite being happy where you are. I’m happy where I am but I go to bed at night and feel empty inside.” Tyrion sighed, dragging a hand across his face.

“A cock isn’t going to help that, Sansa,” he said. Sansa retreated back into her mask. Tyrion watched it happen and mourned for the flash in her eyes that had come with its removal. “You live here, in the North, and I am Daenerys’ hand. You don’t even like Daenerys.”

Sansa didn’t deny it, Tyrion noticed. “We’d sort something out. You could live here. You could be my hand. It was what we were going to do, once.” Tyrion remembered that it had been his father’s intention that they repopulate the north or whatever. He had never expected it to happen, given that he had never expected an heir. “We could have a child, lots of children, and be happy here, away from anyone who doesn’t appreciate us. Just us - and Brienne and your brother, I suppose.”

She made a compelling case. Tyrion didn’t need to close his eyes to imagine children with Sansa, throwing snowballs or creating snow forts. Tyrion could see he and Jaime raising children in the same place, their wives best friends, their children as close as brothers. They would be a family. Tyrion’s heart almost broke. He could feel tears welling in his eyes.

“And when children come along who are like me?” Tyrion asked, tears invading his throat. “What does your plan do then, Sansa?”

Sansa shook her head. “If they come, they come and I will love them, as I know you will. You believe me to be Cersei?” She did a good impression when she had the mask on, Tyrion considered, but, no, this woman offering to marry him was not his sister. Thankfully. “Tyrion, think about it at least,” she said, standing. Tyrion nodded dumbly, watching as she stepped away from the window.

“You’re leaving?” he said without thinking, cursing himself almost immediately. She gave him a look. The flash in her eyes made Tyrion’s cock twitch.

“You want me to stay?” she asked, smiling seductively. Tyrion almost groaned. As if she would ever have to seduce him.

**XXX**

Jaime woke to a banging at the door. He groaned, wiping his eyes blearily and remembering the events of last night. His vision cleared, finding Brienne fully dressed in her armour, sword attached to her waist. "Who's at the door?" Jaime slurred. Brienne strode over to it. She had such confidence when she was wearing the armour he had bought her.

She opened the door a crack, very careful not to show her naked betrothed to whoever was at the door. Jaime grinned at the thought. "Who is it?" he called, solely to embarrass her.

And then she let Tyrion in and the small triumph that came from the thought of Brienne's red blotchy face due to embarrassment disappeared. "What do you want?" Jaime grumbled, sitting up and exposing his chest to his brother and Brienne. He felt the heat of the fire that Brienne had no doubt stocked up the moment she awoke.

"I need your advice."

"Again."

"Yes, well, I'm not exactly surrounded by friends, so, despite your absolute failure in the past at romantic relationships-" Jaime squawked "- I'm coming to you."

"I'm not a failure," Jaime said, gesturing at Brienne who gave him an amused look. "What happened? Did you fuck Sansa again?" Brienne glared at him this time.

"I'm going to go," she said, her eyes glancing away awkwardly. Jaime pouted.

"Don't I get a kiss goodbye?" he asked. She gave him a derisive look, scoffing and then leaving. Jaime gave the door an unhappy look. Tyrion pulled himself up onto the bed, leaning against the bottom end and pointing his short legs towards Jaime, who leaned back against the cushions, tugging the sheets up to cover his midriff.

"I did fuck Sansa again," Tyrion admitted, "after she asked me to marry her." Jaime's jaw dropped. "I know."

"What did you say?" Jaime asked, urgency mixed with excitement in his tone. "Did she get down on one knee?" Tyrion yanked at the sheet with a scowl, forcing Jaime to grasp it so as not to reveal himself. Jaime shot a glare at Tyrion, pulling the sheet up to his neck. 

"I said she didn't know what she was talking about and she only wants to marry me because I made her come. Something to that effect anyway," Tyrion said, leaning his head against one of the posts of Jaime's bed. Jaime threw a cushion at his brother. "What?"

"Why would you say that? Potentially the most eligible lady in the Seven Kingdoms, and one of the most beautiful, asks you to marry her and you refuse? What is wrong with you?"

Tyrion groaned, "I know."

"And after refusing to marry her, you fucked her?" Tyrion nodded. "You really are a terrible person. I don't know why Sansa wants to marry you."

"She said we could be happy together. She said that we could have a family here and you and Brienne would stay -" Jaime groaned.

"We have to stay in the  _ North _ ?"

"Sansa wants Brienne to stay with her. She wants us to have lots of babies and all be happy together." Jaime thought the idea had merit. "And I can imagine it. It would be amazing and I would fall in love with her." Jaime blinked. "And I'd spend the rest of my life living in unrequited love with the mother of my children."

Jaime furrowed his brow, letting his sheet fall back to his waist. "So, to be clear, the reason you're not marrying Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell and your ex-wife, is because you're scared that she, the person who proposed to you, will not fall in love with you?"

Tyrion growled. "I appreciate how stupid it sounds, Jaime, but look at me. I'm not you! She wants me because I'm a safe option, not because she is in love with me."

"I'm not saying she is in love with you. I'm saying she could fall in love with you. And I do know how you feel." Tyrion scoffed. "No, I do. I never thought Brienne would allow herself to fall in love with me. She is so much better than me, so much more honourable. I've done horrible things and she knows that. What I look like isn't important to her; my honour is. How could I possibly make this woman fall in love with me? But she did. We don't choose who we love."

Tyrion gave Jaime a narrowed eyed look of scrutiny. "How long have you been in love with her?" Tyrion asked. Jaime rolled his shoulders as he considered.

"I'm not sure," he said eventually. "There wasn't some moment where suddenly I stopped loving Cersei and started loving Brienne. I feel as though there hasn't been a moment I didn't love her since I've known her but that's not true. I do know that even when I didn't like her I was willing to do anything for her, to make sure she wasn't hurt." Tyrion nodded, swallowing. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“What?” Tyrion said defensively. Jaime gave him a look to tell him to stop fucking around.

“You’re torturing yourself for no reason. This woman wants you to marry her. You don’t know how the future is going to pan out. She might fall in love with you. She might not. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I do know that you would be happy here, with a wife and children. You’d be Lord of Winterfell and have a family.”

Tyrion clenched his jaw. Jaime watched him carefully. He knew that he was right here but that Tyrion had to come to the decision himself, or, when things went tits up, he’d only blame Jaime. Not that Jaime thought things would go tits up. Jaime rather thought Tyrion and Sansa would make each other very happy and he could see them falling in love, if they let themselves.

“So you think I should marry her?” Tyrion said. Jaime rolled his eyes.

“Yes.”

“But I’m Daenerys’ hand.”

“True,” Jaime said with a nod, “but you have to ask yourself what you want more: happiness or power.” Tyrion gave Jaime a look which told him that his simplification of the situation was not appreciated. Jaime didn’t care, stretching back against the pillows. “And given that the happiness comes with access to as much sex as you want, I think the answer is obvious,” Jaime added with a smirk.

“As much sex as  _ Sansa _ wants,” Tyrion corrected.

Jaime snorted. “She let you shag her on the meeting room table. I’m sure she’ll want lots.” Tyrion’s neck flushed and Jaime snickered. “Come on, Tyrion, it’s not that complicated. What do you want more?”

**XXX**

Jaime checked that he looked as respectable as possible before knocking on the door to Queen Daenerys’ solar, where he knew that she was meeting with her advisors until midday, thanks to his brother’s visit that morning. It was nearly midday, so Jaime hoped he would be able to catch her. One of her unsullied soldiers opened the door, where Jaime found Daenerys at the head of the table, surrounded by Jon Snow, Varys, Tyrion, the female advisor who followed her everywhere, a Dothraki and the leader of her unsullied.

“Ser Jaime,” the dragon queen greeted, looking up from her maps. She didn’t move to cover them and Jaime didn’t look. “What can we help you with?”

“I just wanted to inform you, your grace, that I have sent for the rest of the Lannister armies.” Daenerys only arched an eyebrow. “They’re under my command as Lord Lannister and will leave Cersei with no one but the Golden Company.” Daenerys inclined her head.

“Thank you, Lord Lannister,” she said, placing emphasis on his title. Jaime swallowed, hating his father’s title. He nodded once and turned to leave, ignoring the look on his brother’s face.

Jaime closed the door to Daenerys’ solar with a click, hoping that that had won him a bit more trust. He wandered along the corridor to his next stop, Sansa’s solar. He knocked twice and was greeted by a Northern soldier’s scowl. Jaime smiled at him. “Is Lady Brienne within?” he asked. The soldier merely grunted and stepped aside to allow Jaime to enter.

Inside, he found the solar empty. He continued to Sansa’s bedchamber, discovering Brienne in only her vest and underwear. He wolf-whistled from the open doorway, grinning at her discomfort at being practically naked around this women. Two of Sansa’s ladies gasped in horror but Brienne only rolled her eyes, not doing anything to cover herself. Sansa glared at him. “How can we help you, Ser Jaime?” she asked, offering Brienne her breeches.

“I just wondered if you had agreed to allow Lady Brienne to take a week off after the wedding,” Jaime said, standing upright and watching Brienne lace her breeches. The two chambermaids scuttled off with a wave of Sansa’s hand.

“I have,” Sansa said, smiling at Brienne genuinely. Brienne’s neck flushed and she focussed on putting on her shirt. “I hope you will have a restful week.”

“I hope not,” Jaime replied with a smirk.

“Jaime,” Brienne growled, flushing. Jaime snickered.

Sansa’s lips were twitching. “Lady Brienne’s outfit is taking shape very well,” she commented as Brienne finished dressing and reached for her boots. Jaime snorted.

“I doubt that,” he said honestly. Sansa turned irritated eyes upon him. “I truly would not care if she wore her armour, my lady. It’s her wedding day.” Sansa nodded once, giving him what he thought was a look of approval.

“I’m aware of that, Ser Jaime. I promise she will be comfortable.” Jaime doubted that very much. “The rest of the preparations are going very well. Queen Daenerys has offered her unsullied to help decorate the sept.” Jaime wondered how much of this Brienne had approved and how much had been done without her knowledge. She stood up from the chair, boots laced and armour on. “And I have planned a feast.”

“A feast?” Jaime said, furrowing his brow. “I doubt many of your northerners want to celebrate a Lannister’s wedding.” Sansa shook her head.

“No,” she allowed, “but this is Brienne’s wedding, as you just pointed out, and you will find that Lady Brienne is well loved in the North.” Brienne came to stand by Jaime. He took her hand in his and squeezed it. “And, anyhow, we already planned to have a feast to celebrate winning the battle,” Sansa said, striding into her solar. Jaime and Brienne followed. “I expected the Long Night to be prolonged. I find that we have enough extra food to have quite a celebration, enough to celebrate my friend’s wedding and the winning of the war against the dead.”

Jaime smiled at Sansa referring to Brienne as her friend. He was very proud of how beloved Brienne was. He couldn’t believe she was marrying him. “Can I help you with anything else, Ser Jaime?” Jaime met her eyes. “Have you come to threaten to do me harm if I break your brother’s heart?” Jaime chuckled. She was very direct. He could see why Tyrion liked her.

“No, my lady. I am sure you will care for it very dearly. I only hope that he will pull his head out of his arse and that some day soon I will call you sister.” Sansa arched an eyebrow at Jaime and Jaime could almost hear the joke in her mind. She chose not to say it and Jaime was grateful.

“Yes, I will be very happy to be Brienne’s sister,” she said, taking a seat at her table. Jaime rolled his eyes at her lack of inclusion of him. “Brienne, go and have lunch with your betrothed,” she said and Jaime could hear the smile in her voice. Jaime lifted Brienne’s hand to his mouth and kissed it. “I have a meeting in two hours. Would you please come back for then?” she asked. Brienne nodded.

“Yes, my lady. Thank you.”

Jaime grinned.  _ Two hours _ .

**XXX**

“Fuck, Jaime,” Brienne panted, tightening her hold on his hair and pressing his head closer to her. He took her clit into his mouth. Brienne’s other hand balled in the sheets of their bed, letting out a sort of whining moan. She lost all control of the noises she made when Jaime’s head was between her legs. “Fuck, fuck,” she cried, feeling the pressure build. He was so good at this. He lathed his tongue against her, circling her slit while his fingers pumped inside of her. “More,” she groaned, grinding against his face. She was nearing the top of the wave, ready to ride it to completion.

It didn’t take much longer until she was coming against his face, his teeth pulling slightly at the skin that covered her clit and his fingers pumping through her legs’ spasms. Stars appeared behind her eyes. She arched her back off the bed, gyrating her hips against Jaime’s still moving tongue and wonderful fingers. “Jaime,” she groaned when he moved away, her legs stilling and her head falling back against the pillows. He grinned up at her, licking his lips like a sated lion.

He came to lie beside her, body angled against hers, his erection hard against her thigh. He leaned his face down to press his lips against hers. Brienne could taste herself on his tongue. She tangled her hand in his hair and kissed him eagerly if inattentively, enjoying the lazy, slow feel of his lips caressing hers. 

“I don’t think Sansa expected this when she suggested I have a lunch break,” Brienne said when they pulled apart, her breath coming quickly. Jaime snorted, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“On the contrary, wench, I’m sure this is exactly what she imagined.” Brienne tapped his hip as though to admonish him. He ground himself against her side and bent to kiss her again.

“I do actually need some form of sustenance,” Brienne said, closing her eyes against Jaime’s kisses, spreading quickly from her lips to her jaw to her neck.

“Do I not sustain you?” Jaime asked against her collarbone. Brienne let out a throaty laugh.

“No,” she said, letting out a moan when Jaime fixed his lips on her nipple, darting his eyes up to find her sapphire gems staring down at him.

“I’m sure you’ll cope, wench,” Jaime said with a grin, as he rolled his body on top of hers, reaching down to adjust himself so that he could thrust inside her with a grunt.

Brienne moaned, panting, “when my stomach is growling in this meeting, I’ll send you to the seventh hell.” Jaime chuckled against her lips.

“I welcome it,” he replied, kissing her harshly and thrusting.

When Brienne arrived at her meeting later, Sansa greeted her with a hunk of bread and a mug of ale. Brienne blushed furiously.

**XXX**

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne tops Jaime, Jaime bitchslaps Tormund and Jaime cuts Brienne off with kisses
> 
> All in all, some excellent Braime trope work by me

“Jaime Lannister has sent for more troops. Cersei’s own armies will be joining our cause,” Daenerys announced, a smile gracing her beautiful face, as she led the latest war council meeting. Brienne ducked her head to hide her blush when she found many members of the council ‘discreetly’ looking at her. The whole of Winterfell was aware that Brienne and Jaime’s wedding was fast approaching and Brienne was sure that most of them knew that Jaime never slept in his tent in the Lannister camp outside the walls of Winterfell.

“It could be months until the Lannister troops arrive,” Jon said from his seat to the right side of Daenerys. “We want to leave Winterfell in two weeks.”

“Yes,” Tyrion spoke up, drawing eyes to him from all over the room. “Our first battle will take place at the Twins, led by the Unsullied and Dothraki, with Queen Daenerys on dragon back. There is a Lannister contingent there, led by House Swyft. Cersei has House Swyft firmly under her thumb. They will not leave to serve Ser Jaime." Brienne’s stomach felt funny when she heard Jaime’s name, made her want to smile.

"So we take them out," Daenerys said, knocking over the lion on the map that covered the table. The ease with which she did so made Brienne's stomach stir. She could knock down Brienne's lion just as easily. "Then Westeros will know that fire and blood have come." Brienne noticed that it was only Daenerys' essosi soldiers who roared in agreement. Brienne made eye contact with Ser Davos, who seemed to squirm in his seat. Brienne swallowed the lump that rose in her throat.  _ Fire and blood _ . 

"After we have taken the Twins," Tyrion continued, "the army will continue on to Harrenhal, where we expect to find a contingent of the Golden Company. Taking Harrenhal is essential to be seen as victors in the eyes of Westeros. When Harrenhal is taken, the northern army will join us in King's Landing, along with Ser Jaime's Lannister contingent." Jaime at the front of the Lannister contingent, while Brienne led the Northern army. Far apart, most likely, although both with the chance of death. Brienne was not sure how well they would fight without the other by their side. She wondered whether she would be able to focus on anything but finding Jaime and assuring his survival. After all, was that what he had done when he had arrived at Winterfell? Brienne sucked her top lip into her mouth, glancing at Sansa and feeling guilt bloom in her stomach. Sansa should be her priority.

“Do we have a way to contact Ser Jaime’s contingent?” Sansa asked Tyrion. Brienne was unsure how Sansa could focus, let alone speak coherently, knowing that she had fucked Tyrion on the very table on which they now planned battle attacks. Tyrion gave her an inquisitive look. “Surely it makes far more sense to meet them on the battlefield, rather than have them come all the way up north and then go back down south.” Tyrion inclined his head. Brienne found herself wondering how many people in the room knew that Sansa and Tyrion were fucking.

“You are correct, Lady Sansa,” Tyrion said. “However, when Jaime sent for the troops, he ordered them to Winterfell. If we send them elsewhere, then there is the chance that some of the troops will get word to Cersei about exactly where we are planning our attack. It is not a risk we can take.” Or, in other words, Daenerys still didn’t trust Jaime. It made Brienne’s insides squirm though she understood the reasons behind it. She would trust him eventually. Brienne would make sure of it.

But Daenerys had to trust Brienne too. Which was why, an hour later, while they ate bread and cheese in their chambers, Brienne refused to tell Jaime what had gone on during the meeting. “It’s so frustrating,” Jaime groused. “I understand why you’re not telling me but what am I supposed to tell my men? How can I prepare them for war when I don’t know what we’re riding into?”

Brienne gave him a pursed-lips, eyebrows-raised look. “You’re a good military commander, Jaime. I’m sure you can have a guess at what she’s going to do and prepare your men the best way possible. Anyway, all of your men haven’t arrived yet, so you can hardly prepare exactly.” Jaime pouted. “Stop pouting.”

“I’m not pouting,” he said, pouting. Brienne rolled her eyes. It was almost as though she were the older one in the relationship.

“It was funny seeing Sansa and Tyrion together,” Brienne said. Jaime raised his eyebrows. “They were interacting as though they hadn’t spent the past night fucking.” 

"I love when you swear," Jaime said, lifting her knuckles to his lips for a brief moment. Brienne flushed with pleasure. "What were frick and frack like?" 

Brienne rolled her eyes. "They were normal. I suppose your brother was rather smiley." 

"I'm sure he was." Jaime sighed. "I should probably talk to him. I was a dick to him the other day."

"I'm sure he wasn't surprised." Brienne enjoyed the way Jaime looked at her when she teased him. "Anyhow he was a dick to us too." 

"He is my brother, though, unfortunately. The only family I have left in the world except you. I love him," Jaime said and Brienne appreciated his honesty. She appreciated him calling her his family even more. She reached for his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm, looking up and meeting his eyes. "I don't think we have long enough, sweetling. "

Brienne flushed. He was teasing her. She stood and his face turned from amused to confused. Brienne approached him, feeling bold, and bent down to kiss him, lacing a hand through his golden locks. She pulled away, enjoying his swollen lips and dark eyes. “Make time," she said, grinning as she felt his hand on her hip. She hooked a leg over his lap and settled herself there, enjoying the way his cock pressed insistently between her thighs. 

"I suppose I can be late to my meeting with Bronn," Jaime said, practically leaping forward to cover her lips with his own. 

**XXX**

"You're late, Lannister," Bronn growled when Jaime prowled into his own tent that Bronn was occupying while Jaime slept in Brienne's chamber. 

"My most sincere apologies, Bronn," Jaime said, flinging himself into a chair and pouring some ale from the jug available at the table, a shit-eating grin on his face. "I assure you it was worth it." 

Bronn scoffed, drinking some of his own ale. “Well, while you've been fucking your missus, I've been stood around here like a twat." 

"My being here any earlier wouldn't have changed much then.” Bronn scowled. 

"If you'd have told me you'd be late then I coulda found one of them camp followers and had a bitta what's making you smirk."

Jaime was smirking, very happily smirking. He had just been fucked by Brienne in a chair. It had been wonderful. “As much as I'd love to continue this conversation,” Jaime said, clearing his mind, “there are legitimate reasons I wanted to have a meeting with you." Bronn sighed.

About two hours later, when Bronn and Jaime had discussed what they thought Daenerys was planning and had adjusted their training schedule accordingly, they made their way from the Lannister camp back to the castle. “Oh, by the way,” Jaime said, “I'm going to need my tent back the night before the wedding." 

Bronn groaned. "Why? Everyone already knows you're fucking her. No sense in pretending to be decorous the night before.”

Jaime raised his brows. “Decorous is a big word for you. And it’s not about decorum. It’s about tradition. I want to do this right,” he said firmly. Bronn smirked.

“Well, aren't you a softie? Your stupid superstitions are losing you a night of shagging that you'll never get back.” Jaime rolled his eyes. “And, if it’s as good as that stupid grin on your face suggests it is, is nicking my tent really worth it?”

“It’s my tent,” Jaime protested. “You could be sleeping on the floor with the rest of the heathens.”

Bronn squawked. “I am an anointed knight,” he said, wagging his finger at Jaime as they entered through the gates of Winterfell.

“You don’t have your own pavilion. You’re a heathen.”

“Since when is a fucking  _ pavilion _ the mark of not being a heathen?” Jaime chuckled. “Ey up,” Bronn said, grabbing Jaime’s arm and jolting him to the side. Jaime grunted in surprise, shoving Bronn’s hand off him and not thanking him despite it being owed. Horses trotted past them, into the courtyard, a large ginger man leading them. “Who’s this then?”

Jaime furrowed his brow as the men dismounted their horses. The leader was huge. Jaime thought he had at least two inches on him, making him even taller than Brienne. “Where can I find the big lady?” the man growled at the squire who was polishing the swords by the forge.

The ferocious man grasped the squire’s shirt until he replied in a stutter, “the king- the kingslayer’s chambers, ser.”

“I’m no ser,” the man said, dropping him and roaring in anger. Jaime glanced at Bronn. Why on earth did this man want to know of Brienne’s whereabouts?

“Aren’t they Brienne’s chambers and not yours anyway?” Bronn muttered. Jaime nodded, rolling his eyes. “What does this fella want with your missus?”

“Where can I find the kingslayer?” the scary ginger man roared around the courtyard, turning ungracefully.

“He’s here!” Bronn called to Jaime’s horror, turning a finger towards him. The ginger man turned furious eyes upon Jaime. “Sorry, mate, I just really want to watch this,” the sellsword said unapologetically. Jaime clenched his fist as the huge man approached.

“Kingslayer,” the man snarled. Jaime inclined his head. “Why is the big lady in your chambers?” Jaime narrowed his eyes.

“She is the Lady of Tarth. You will call her Lady Brienne,” Jaime demanded with more bravado than he felt. Bronn whistled lowly beside him.

“Are you fucking her?”

“I am  _ marrying _ her in two days.” Jaime watched as the huge man’s face fell.

“I left straight after the fucking battle and she was  _ mine _ . Just five nights have passed!”

Jaime snorted. “She was never yours. She has always been  _ mine _ .” Bronn cleared his throat in amusement. “And, more than that,” Jaime hastily corrected, “she is her own person who decides what she wants to do with her life. She  _ decided _ to marry me.” Jaime watched as the man’s nostrils flared. He knew that it was nonsense that Brienne had been this man’s paramour. He was the first to lie with her and certainly the first to be loved by her truly.

“She deserves better than some one-handed sister fucker.”

Bronn hooted. “Well, isn’t that the truth?” Jaime shot a glare at him. It was the truth.

“I was going to give her everything,” the huge ginger man said. “She would have said yes.”

“She would not,” Jaime said without certainty. The Brienne of before the battle had no reason to believe that Jaime loved her, no reason to believe she would ever see him again. “She would not.”

**XXX**

Sansa Stark followed her brother down to the yard, where they had been informed by the sentries that Tormund Giantsbane had returned from the scouting mission Jon had sent him off on the day after the battle. Jon was eager to greet his wildling friend and Sansa was anxious to have confirmation of the safety of their surrounding areas.

“What the…” Jon said as he stepped out onto the ramparts. Sansa furrowed her brow and followed, stepping into the cold just in time to see Tormund sink his fist into Jaime Lannister’s stomach. Sansa closed her eyes briefly. She was fairly certain she knew exactly what this was about. Brienne was not going to be happy.

“Ser Jaime, may I have a word?” Sansa said as loudly as she could from the ramparts. Jon flinched next to her. Jaime saw her and clenched his jaw.

“Of course, my lady,” he said tightly, moving away from the wildling who Jon approached. Tormund was ranting about Jaime hitting him with his golden hand. Jaime made his way up the stairs to Sansa, where she was tapping her foot and pursing her lips.

“I would tell you that you are an idiot but I am sure that Brienne will cover it for me,” Sansa said tersely, sparing Jon and Tormund a glance before she returned into the castle proper.

“You didn’t hear what he was saying,” Jaime mumbled behind her. Sansa stopped in her tracks, forcing Jaime to stop too. He stepped away from her.

“I know exactly what he was saying,” Sansa said, meeting Jaime’s stormy eyes. “ _ Brienne _ will know exactly what he said. Everyone in Winterfell will know what he said.” Jaime’s lips parted and then closed again. “I hope  _ you’re _ preparing what to say to Brienne.” Jaime bobbed his head and Sansa rolled her eyes.  _ Men _ .

**XXX**

“You are such an idiot,” Brienne growled as Jaime leaned against the bed, his hair covering his eyes and his stupid soft lips pouting. “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t really,” Jaime admitted and Brienne met his eyes. He gave her half a smile that nearly had her melting. Thankfully she was not so weak. She let out an irritated sigh and turned away from him. “I don’t think you should be this angry. Yes, okay, I overreacted and I shouldn’t have hit the big ginger man with my gold hand and, yes, I should have more control over myself. But he was saying things that made me- well, I just thought that there might have been a time that you did want him and it made me so irrationally jealous that-”

“That you hit him in the face,” Brienne finished. Jaime nodded.

“I just couldn’t deal with the thought that if I hadn’t come or if I had come later you might have said yes to him.” Brienne furrowed her brow at Jaime. Sometimes when he said things like this, she had to remind herself of the awful way that Cersei had treated him which made him doubt himself, the same way that she knew he had to remind himself of the reasons she doubted herself.

“Jaime, I can’t deny that Tormund’s offer was tempting,” Brienne allowed and Jaime’s face turned to one of outrage, as though he had not just suggested the same thing himself. “He leads the wildlings. He is head of the wildlings, essentially, and Tarth needs an heir. There is no one after me to lead my island. I’d found Sansa and Arya and they were safe and I decided I should probably start thinking about my father again. He allowed me to do so much that most fathers would not have.”

“So you were going to marry that man?” Jaime asked, his mouth agape. Brienne squirmed. The thought of Jaime arriving after she had married Tormund made her feel slightly sick. Thankfully she was never going to go through with it.

Brienne shook her head. “Of course not. It wouldn’t be fair to him. I love  _ you _ , you idiot.” Jaime chuckled lightly. “But that’s not the point, Jaime,” Brienne said, hardening again. “I don’t need you to fight battles for me, no matter what anyone is saying. People are going to say things about me for the rest of our lives.”

“I know that,” Jaime muttered. Brienne swallowed.

“Then you must know that you can’t fight every one of them and, even if you could, I would not want that.” Jaime nodded.

“I know that and I am perfectly happy with just sassing them for the rest of our lives,” Jaime said earnestly and Brienne rolled her eyes, her lips twitching. “But he was saying- he was saying you were  _ his _ and I just - seven gods, Brienne, the idea made me sick.”

“Because I’m  _ yours _ ?” Brienne asked, an eyebrow arched.

“Yes!” Jaime cried. Brienne’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth to speak. “No, I mean,  _ no _ .”

“I’m not a piece of meat, Jaime,” she hissed at him.

“I know that!” Jaime cried and Brienne sensed his resolve snap. “Why does it matter if I want you to belong to me?” he demanded.

“Because that is what every man I have been betrothed to wanted - me to be their property. The next step is dictating what I can and cannot do and, Jaime, I will not-”

Jaime cut her off with a bruising kiss, rising suddenly from the bed and taking her face into his hands, the golden one cold against Brienne’s scarred skin. When he pulled away, Brienne was annoyed at herself for giving into him. “I love you,” Jaime whispered. “I love you because you are you, because you can best me with a sword, because you can pin me down between your magnificent thighs -” Brienne expelled some air through her nose in half a laugh “- I love you because you rode off with my sword to defend Sansa and Arya, because you beat up your ex-betrothed so hard that you broke his collarbone. I love you because you do the things you do, because you say the things you say, because you are the way you are. I swear, Brienne, that I will never tell you what you can and can’t do.”

Brienne swallowed harshly. “I’d like to see you try anyway,” she said thickly. He chuckled and brushed her cheek with his thumb. “You can’t just kiss me everytime I’m annoyed at you and expect everything to be better,” she said after another kiss.

He smirked against her lips. “I can try.” He kissed her again and then pulled away, looking into her eyes intensely. “I’m yours,” he murmured. Brienne searched his eyes for evidence that he was asking her to admit that she belonged to him too. She found none, so she let the warm feeling of him being hers settle in her stomach. Perhaps that was what he wanted to feel too. It was a very pleasant feeling.

“And I yours,” Brienne said reluctantly. Jaime grinned, his eyes lighting up. “You get that one time and one time only-”

He interrupted her with his lips and only pulled away when they were both fighting for breath. He yanked her shirt out from her breeches and his hand found its way underneath to her breast, his thumb rubbing across the tight nipple. “I’m sure I can make you say it again,” Jaime teased. Brienne let out a throaty laugh. She was sure he could too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY HEY HEY  
If you follow Kingslayer too (you should, why don't you?), this is TWO updates in one day and that is good coz I've been in Rennes this weekend and I, you know, have a life outside of fic writing.
> 
> I cannot promise that I will update as frequently (lol, soz) coz I am going away on Thursday night and lots of things are happening excitingly here in Paris like Christmas lights and Christmas markets and DISNEY CHRISTMAS
> 
> BUT despite that, I really wanna do like a ficmas sort of thing
> 
> Am thinking of calling it Festive Tidings though I am unsure why - basically a Braime fic everyday (with one exception that will be Sanrion coz I want Daenerys going cray after finding out Tyrion and Sansa used to be married)
> 
> So, fab, hope you enjoyed this rant and this chapter. GO CHECK OUT KINGSLAYER and other things I've written too - TransfiguredToad here and on ff.net and TransfiguredToadsWorld on Tumblr I think


	9. the eve of the wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut, bants and Arya Stark having a facial

Jaime woke with a start, a sharp pain in his stomach. It took him a few disoriented seconds to realise that Brienne was flailing in her sleep and had managed to dig her elbow quite deep into Jaime’s organs. Wincing, he poked her with his stump while he adjusted so that he could pull his left hand from under her. Freeing it did not wake her as he hoped. “Brienne,” Jaime hissed, shaking her shoulder, his arm at an awkward position. “Wake up, love.”

This was the second time that he’d been woken by her nightmares. Jaime wondered how she coped when she was alone. He felt an uncomfortable squirm where her elbow had connected with his stomach, the way he always felt when he considered having sent her out to find Sansa alone. She finally woke with a gasp. Jaime leaned away, not wanting to scare her, or have her headbutt him.

She did rise quite quickly, grasping the sheets and looking around desperately. “Hey, hey,” Jaime said, laying his good hand on her shoulder. “You’re okay. Everything is okay. I’m here.” She responded to that by capturing his lips with her own. Surprised, Jaime took a few seconds to respond to her, but, when he did, he tangled his hand in her hair and allowed her to push him back against the headframe, straddling him. “Brienne,” he gasped between kisses.

“Want you,” she muttered, bending to kiss his neck, and, if the kiss hadn’t already had him fully hard, that did. Neither of them had gone to sleep clothed. Jaime reached between Brienne’s legs to stroke her ready, assuming that her nightmare had sent her desperate for contact rather than aroused her. He soon put that right. She groaned noisily into his hair, grinding on his fingers. “Enough,” she said quickly, batting his hand away. Jaime pulled away and used the same hand to cup her cheek and bring her close to him for another kiss. She reached down between them and fit him inside her.

They groaned mutually. Jaime hoped she started waking him up for this in the middle of the night more often. They were undoubtedly waking their neighbours but Jaime did not give a single fuck. He met each roll of her hips with a thrust of his own. “More, more,” she moaned, scratching her nails down his back, making Jaime’s hairs stand on end and his balls tighten. “Want you to fuck me,” she panted against his neck.

“That’s what we’re doing, sweetling,” Jaime ground out, driving his cock into her as best he could from his position. Brienne shook her head and made eye contact with him. Jaime knew what she wanted immediately. He nodded urgently. She whined as she pulled herself from his dick and shifted to lie back against the pillows.

“Hold your legs back against your chest,” Jaime ordered. Brienne nodded hurriedly and did as he said. Jaime licked the sweat from her cheek and then kissed her as he thrust inside her, groaning into her mouth. She screeched against his lips.

Their mouths mashed together inelegantly in the effort for more contact, more touch, more love. Her teeth smashed against his mouth and Jaime loved it, matching it with the bruising attack on her cunt, his hand gripping the headboard to keep him upright.

“Jaime, more, more, yes, yes,” Brienne chanted, her eyes closed, her back arched. Jaime pounded her, desperate to make her come, to explode beneath him. “Fuck, yes, oh fuck, Jaime, fuck, yes. So good, Jaime, so good.”

“Fuck, Brienne, touch yourself,” Jaime panted. “Fuck, I’m so close. Touch yourself.” She groaned, thrusting her hips down onto his, grabbing his other arm and using his stump to rub against her clit. “Oh, fuck, I love you so  _ fucking _ much, fuck, fuck, Brienne, I’m not gonna last much longer, fuck, is that good?”

“Yes, yes, yes,  _ Jaime _ ,” she keened, dragging out his name as she masturbated herself with Jaime’s stump. It was the best thing Jaime had ever experienced, complete acceptance from the love of his life. It made him drive into her harder, desperate to make this incredible woman scream his name, before he screamed hers. “So good, Jaime, so fucking good.” 

And then she came with a scream of Jaime’s name, wrapping her legs around his waist and trapping his arm between them as she rode out her orgasm against him. “Come, love, come,” Brienne pleaded, cupping his cheek, tears slipping down her cheeks from the force of her orgasm. With three thrusts, Jaime let himself go with a roar of her name, capturing her face with his hand and pulling her in for a bruising kiss.

When he pulled away and collapsed against her, her shaking legs fell from around his waist, though he did not move from on top of her. “You’re so fucking good,” she panted, lacing her fingers with his. “Jaime, you’re so-” Jaime cut her off with a kiss. “I love you,” Brienne groaned, still rubbing her hips against his as she got over her orgasm.

Jaime laughed breathily. “You inspire me.”

She groaned out loud again. “Fuck, that was so good. I’m so glad I get to marry you.”

“For my cock?” Jaime said, amused. She hummed in agreement and Jaime laughed, finally rolling off her. She whined. “I don’t think I’ve ever made you scream quite so loud. The whole of Winterfell is going to be glaring at us at breakfast.”

“Worth it,” Brienne moaned, rubbing her thighs together. Evidence of their coupling spread between them. Jaime chuckled, knowing that Brienne would likely not think it was worth it when they received dirty comments in the hall. “I’ve never- that hard. I thought I was going to pass out.”

“I thought you were too. Fuck, Brienne, that was so good.”

“I love you,” Brienne said, reaching down to stroke her pussy. Jaime chuckled.

“Sore?”

“Always,” she teased and Jaime grinned at how carefree she was after sex. “I doubt I’ll be able to walk in the morning. That’s four times you’ve fucked me in less than eight hours I think.”

“Next week, I’m going to beat that,” Jaime swore, kissing her temple. They lay back on the pillows, Brienne pulling their duvet back over them. Jaime cuddled into her side the way he had on their first night in bed together. “What was your dream about?” he asked against the side of her breast.

Brienne hummed lightly and shook her head. “Silly stuff. I just wanted to feel your love.” Jaime shook his head and leaned his head up so that she would lean hers down to kiss him. He pressed his lips to hers sweetly, innocently. He was sure that he didn’t want to know what her dream had been exactly about, but he was fairly certain that he had featured, and likely Cersei and Tyrion too.

“I love you,” Jaime said simply. “Now sleep, wench, or I’m liable to think I’ve not tired you out enough.” She chuckled lowly and shuffled down lower on the bed. She pressed their foreheads together and looked into his eyes intensely before kissing him once.

“I love you.”

**XXX**

“There he is, the blushing groom!”

Jaime groaned. He had walked into the tent he had been avoiding since coming to Winterfell, preferring the warm, sex-filled chambers that he shared with Brienne, to find Bronn and Tyrion, already halfway into a bottle of wine, by the looks of things.

“Don’t groan, Jaime,” Tyrion cajoled merrily. “It’s the eve before your wedding. You simply must get pissed or it will be bad luck.”

Jaime levelled a glare at his younger brother. “I think it will be worse luck should I arrive at the wedding tomorrow with a hangover. My wife is likely to run me through.” Bronn snickered and did not stop when Jaime turned his glare onto him.

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “Come along, Jaime. A few drinks, a game or two. What harm can be done?” Jaime set his jaw. A lot of harm.

“Two drinks and one game,” he acquiesced, pointing a finger between the two as menacingly as he could. They shared a wicked grin and Jaime felt dread settle in his stomach. He took a seat on the worst chair in his own tent. “What game are we playing then?”

Ten minutes later, Jaime regretted asking the question. “You made the first move with Brienne,” Tyrion said, jabbing him in the chest with one of his chubby little fingers. Raising his eyes to the ceiling, Jaime drank.

“You have never made the first move with Sansa,” Jaime returned, gesturing at Tyrion with his stump while he drank again from the goblet in his other hand. Bronn roared with laughter. Jaime grinned.

Tyrion hesitated. “Does asking to stay in her room count?” Jaime and Bronn shared a look and then looked back at Tyrion, eyebrows raised. “I’ll drink.”

“You prefer having your wife on top,” Bronn said crudely to Jaime. Jaime quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Are we lowering the tone so soon?” Jaime asked.

Bronn rolled his eyes. “You once said I lower the tone the second I step into a room.”

“And I stand by that statement.”

“Just drink, Lannister.”

Jaime did drink.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married, Jaime,” Tyrion slurred about two hours and a lot more than two drinks later. “I truly never thought you would.”

“I am sorry to disappoint, brother,” Jaime said, hoping he didn’t sound anywhere near as drunk as Tyrion. Tyrion pffed at him and waved his hand.

“I always wanted you to get married and out from under Cersei’s cunt,” Tyrion said, making Jaime wince. “I thought I would have to watch you get fucked over for the rest of our lives.”

“Now you just get to watch him get fucked,” Bronn quipped, making Jaime groan and put his head on the table. “I bet the sex is fucking incredible. I cannot believe you’ve given up a night of fucking in the name of fucking tradition.”

Jaime couldn’t really believe it either. And nor could Brienne when he told her. When he’d explained the tradition element and him wanting to do things right, a smile had played about her lips, half-amused, half-happy, and Jaime had taken it as approval. He just wanted to be able to tell their kids one day that they had done it properly, a romantic tale that they could coo over, that his daughters would expect from their husbands-to-be. Jaime smiled stupidly and explained this to Bronn and Tyrion.

Bronn spluttered his drink. “You’re gonna have babes with her?”

Jaime wasn’t sure if he should be affronted or not, so he was. He leaned back in his chair, lolling his head to the side. “Of course I’m gonna have babes with her. Why?” he demanded.

Tyrion groaned. “They’re going to be fucking huge.”

This time Jaime truly was annoyed. He staggered out of his chair and put his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Have a bit of respect,” he spat. Bronn chuckled and Jaime turned his ire on him too.

“Okay, with that, I’m gonna go and find a whore to fuck. Tyrion?”

Tyrion wriggled out of the chair and followed Bronn to where he stood by the flap of the tent, leaving Jaime gaping at the pair of them. When had he allowed himself to get this drunk? “Jaime,” Tyrion’s voice said from the door. Jaime stumbled a bit closer to his brother. “I truly am so happy for you.”

Jaime felt his smile stretch his face before the words truly resonated. “And I for you,” Jaime said, tapping Tyrion’s cheek forcefully with the palm of his hand. Tyrion pushed him away lightly and Jaime snickered.

“See you in the sept,” his brother said with a wink, following Bronn out.

_ The sept _ , Jaime thought, collapsing back onto the bed.  _ The sept where Brienne would walk towards him and he would be hers forever. _

**XXX**

**A few hours earlier …**

“My lady,” Brienne had said in surprise when Sansa had turned up outside her chambers with Queen Daenerys, Arya and Missandei. Sansa had given her a big smile and had come in. Half an hour later, they were all lounging on some surface, having odd sorts of mixtures applied to their faces by some of Queen Daenerys’ handmaidens.

“This is what the Naathi do the night before their weddings,” Missandei had said quietly to Brienne when the handmaidens had walked in with their towels and perfumes and ointments. “The Queen asked me what she should do to make your wedding eve pleasant.” Brienne was touched by the thought, although she had wanted to simply collapse and sleep until she was married to Jaime.

“Are you excited to be wed, Brienne?” Arya asked from her position by the window, blowing on her fingernails. The handmaidens had applied some sort of mixture to her nails that Daenerys said originated in Qarth. Arya’s were dark black. They were doing Brienne’s as they spoke, pure red, Jaime’s colour. She was struggling not to think of what Jaime would think of it when her hands were wrapped around his cock the next evening.

Arya grinned wickedly as Brienne’s blush rose. Brienne ignored her. “Not much is going to change, Arya,” Brienne replied. She’d called Arya “lady” in front of Daenerys when they’d first arrived but Arya had cut that off immediately, reminding Brienne it was her wedding eve, not a small council meeting.

“I’m sure it’s not, from what Jon said he woke up to last night.” Brienne flushed furiously. She had heard the gossip as soon as she entered the dining hall in the morning. At the time, she had cared only for having Jaime as close to her as possible. With hindsight, she considered she really needed to start being a little quieter. Brienne’s brow furrowed as she realised something.

“Aren’t Jon’s rooms two corridors away?”

“Yep,” Arya replied simply, popping an olive into her mouth. Brienne wished her nails were not getting painted so that she could cover her face with her hands. Jaime would find this hilarious, so Brienne tried to channel that, with little success. She couldn’t stop trying to remember what she had said, what Jaime had said, how long it had gone on for.

“At least you know you’re compatible,” Sansa added. Brienne turned angry eyes to her liege. When Sansa joined in, Brienne knew she was in for it. Sansa chuckled and Brienne wished she was quick-thinking enough to make a clever quip about Tyrion that Queen Daenerys would not catch on to. She wished Jaime were here. He would be able to think of something quickly. He’d also probably enjoy getting his nails painted. Perhaps she would keep some of the red paint and do it.

“Sorry,  _ what _ are you putting on my face?” Brienne heard Arya say with disgust. One of the dragon queen’s handmaidens was standing before her with the innocuous white mixture that they had put on Brienne’s face, which had hardened slightly uncomfortably.

The handmaiden glanced at Missandei, who translated the question and then the handmaiden’s response. “It is honey, lemon, baking soda and oil, my lady.”

Arya wrinkled her nose at Missandei, likely because of the title more than the natural ingredients, then gave the handmaiden an assessing look. “Not too much, okay?” she said, closing her eyes and flexing her hands to dry her nails. Brienne wished there were some way to capture this moment forever.

Brienne turned to her companion on the bed, Sansa, who was giggling. She had a oaty mask on her face and one of the handmaidens was brushing through her spectacular auburn hair. “Are you enjoying yourself?” Sansa asked quietly. Brienne nodded. “I know it isn’t really your thing, but the queen suggested it and I thought it would be relaxing at the least.” It wasn’t truly relaxing, if Brienne was honest. Social interaction never was, but it was enjoyable. She didn’t hate it.

“Lady Sansa,” the dragon queen spoke up from her position on the chaise longue. It was quite disconcerting seeing all of these highborn ladies sitting in places that Jaime had fucked her. Sansa hummed at the queen, distracted by the offers of nail colouring that the handmaiden was offering her, having finished with Brienne.

“I’ll have that grey, please,” Sansa said, pointing to a very Stark grey, predictably. “Yes, your grace?”

“I just wondered whether you had given any thought to marrying again. You are a very attractive prospect as the Lady of Winterfell.” Brienne felt Sansa freeze very suddenly. The bed rose as her muscles rose from it, taut with anxiety. Brienne wanted to reach across and lay her hand on Sansa’s arm, that she may take some comfort, but her nails were still wet and Sansa’s were being painted. Arya was looking over at them with alarm, an amusing sight given the white mask coating her skin.

“I would not marry another man, your grace,” Sansa said smoothly, as though she were not tight with nerves at the prospect, as though it were merely a wish that she would remain unmarried - or not married to another man, Brienne noted she had said. She was perfectly willing to marry Tyrion again, of course.

“You had such a bad experience, my lady?”

Sansa nodded tightly. “I am sure I do not need to go into the details of my second marriage, your grace.” The queen nodded with an understanding that made Brienne wonder if Sansa were the only lady in this room to have horrific experiences. 

“I did not know you had been married twice,” the queen commented lightly.

“Yes, after Lord Tyrion, I was forced to marry again.” 

“You were married to Lord Tyrion?” Queen Daenerys said with alarm. Brienne’s eyes widened but she looked down at her nails. She could not imagine why Tyrion had not shared that piece of information with the queen.

Sansa did not sound surprised, though she surely was. “Yes, I was a child and he was forced by his father. It was unconsummated and annulled.”

Brienne chanced a look up at Daenerys, who nodded once. “I cannot imagine why Lord Tyrion would not tell me.”

Sansa shrugged her shoulders gracefully. “Perhaps he thought you would think his priorities were out of order,” she said lightly. Brienne shot her a look which she ignored. “Will you ever get married again, your grace?” Sansa asked, turning the question back on the dragon queen. Brienne had a feeling Sansa was in dangerous territory here.

Daenerys let out a tinkling laugh, though, not an angry glare. “I will have to see, Lady Sansa. The position of my husband is hotly contested and difficult to earn, I assure you. My experiences with my first wedding were - not ideal but I made the best of them, which I would do with another marriage.”

Brienne wondered whether she would marry Jon, whether his status as a bastard made him “not ideal”. Sansa’s tight smile made Brienne think she was thinking the same. Brienne closed her eyes and enjoyed the odd tight feeling on her skin. This time tomorrow, she and Jaime would be locked in these chambers and would not have to leave all week if they did not want to. The thought almost made her smile. She took a steadying breath. She was getting married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey me again
> 
> I have a schedule now that means I should be posting on a REGULAR basis
> 
> Tbf I post pretty regularly on here (you should see me posting on ff.net eek soz)
> 
> anyway, according to my schedule, chapter 10 should be posted next thursday
> 
> (I'VE JUST WRITTEN CHAPTER TEN AND IT'S THE BRAIME WEDDING AND OH MY LIFEEEEE)
> 
> I might put a lil excerpt on tumblr this week - it's transfiguredtoadsworld if you wanna follow me there
> 
> ta ta for now (thanks for reading - your reviews genuinely spur me on I love you all) xx


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol totally thought I'd already posted this soz

Brienne was out of bed and halfway dressed when she remembered what day it was. Usually, she had Jaime beside her snoring or taking up too much room or with his head between her legs to remind her that he was hers and she was his and that she was not living in a dream. This day, she had woken alone and with the kiss of dream Jaime fading quickly. With the realisation that dream Jaime was truly an imitation of the real thing that today she gained access to for the rest of her life, Brienne froze, a smile burgeoning on her lips before she could help it. The sun breaking through the window struck her face, forcing her to close her eyes. She was getting married today.

Sansa had yet to deliver her outfit for the wedding, meaning Brienne was slightly at a loss as to what to do with herself. She stepped over to the window and looked out. She could hardly see beyond the walls, just the snow and the smoke coming from Jaime’s camp, rising like dancers in the sky. She wondered whether he was awake yet, wondered how he had slept without her. Suppressing a smile, she thought that she would be the one who benefitted from an empty bed. He was the far more annoying sleeper.

The night before had been lovely, in the end, though she had doubted its advantages when Sansa had turned up at her door. She had enjoyed the female companionship, something she had been lacking since the girls at Evenfall Hall had grown up and married away, or decided Brienne was not the sort of girl they wanted to spend time with. It was very nice to have friends.

The door sounded and Brienne’s head turned as a maid entered with a tray. Brienne furrowed her brow. She had not sent for any food. The maid lay the tray down on her table by the fire and then bobbed a curtsey. “Lady Sansa sent me, my lady. She said you’ve to eat it all, no matter how nervous you feel.” Brienne cracked half a smile and thanked the mousy girl, who bobbed another curtsey and left, closing the door lightly behind her.

Brienne sat down at the table, surveying what Sansa had sent her: a bowl of porridge with cinnamon, a floral tea and some rice cakes. Brienne’s stomach growled. She had a private smile. Sansa may have felt nervous on the day before her wedding and perhaps anticipated that she would feel nervous again when she remarried Lord Tyrion but Brienne was not Sansa and she had nothing to be nervous about. Jaime wanted to marry her and Brienne wanted to marry Jaime. And she did not care if it went off without a hitch. As long as she ended the morning as Jaime’s wife, she would be happy. More than happy.

Brienne dug into her porridge with gusto. She never understood how big events turned people to starving themselves. Food was sustenance and sustenance was strength. Essential for the small days and the big.

When the bottom of her bowl was clean and her rice cakes were crumbs on the plate, Brienne brought the cup of tea to her lips and took a sip, just as the door went again. Sansa did not even bother to knock, Brienne noticed with a twitch of her lips. “Good morning, Sansa,” she said with amusement.

Sansa positively beamed. “Good morning,  _ Lady Lannister _ .” Brienne flushed. That was one part of the life that came after the wedding that she was not looking forward to. Lady Lannister was one of the few remaining foremost ladies of the land, alongside Sansa as Lady Stark, Sansa’s aunt by marriage as Lady Tully and Lady Yara Greyjoy. Brienne’s life had been aided significantly by the fact she was a minor lady. If not, she would have had little chance of fighting in melées and becoming part of Renly’s guard and she was grateful, but more power meant more scrutiny and more insults for a lady wearing breeches.

Fortunately, she was marrying a kind and accepting man.

“How are you feeling?” Sansa asked, waving in a hoard of maids from the doorframe and sitting down opposite Brienne at the breakfast table. Brienne’s stomach dropped. One of the tittering girls carried Brienne’s outfit, the others various other pieces that were essential to getting ready to be a bride. “Don’t worry,” Sansa whispered when she found Brienne looking aghast. “They’re not staying.”

Sansa was right. As soon as the girls had hung up the clothing and placed boxes here and thereabouts, they left the apartment, taking their giggles with them. Brienne gave Sansa a small, grateful smile. Sansa reached for her hand across the table and her smaller, softer hand caressed Brienne’s large, calloused one. “Just you and me.”

They got Brienne dressed first. Sansa had bought special undergarments which made Brienne flush wildly, in embarrassment at what Sansa was implying and in anticipation for Jaime seeing them. Brienne dressed in those and then stepped out from behind the screen, allowing Sansa to hold out the outfit for Brienne to step into.

When Sansa had approached Brienne with the idea for the outfit, Brienne had been shocked and intrigued. Sansa had suggested an ensemble which included a corset but with breech like bottoms, rather than flowing skirts. As the sewing process went on, Brienne had become more and more accustomed to the idea and, at the final fitting, she had been enamoured by the effect, as she was now.

It was white, as Northern brides always were, but with blue cuffs at the end of trouser legs which flowed like skirts, giving Brienne’s legs room to breathe and giving the effect of a dress with the practicality and comfort of breeches. At the waist, which was defined by the very style of the outfit, there was a simple Lannister red ribbon with gold embroidered bursts of sun. The corset was covered by a high-necked top-half, which featured delicate white embroidery, also of sun bursts, but smaller than those on the ribbon, and they glimmered when the sunlight hit. Around the back of the outfit was the part that had shocked Brienne the most. A hole was left open, showing off the beautiful corset Sansa had confessed to purchasing rather than embroidering herself. It was a light blue with the same gold embroidering as the waistband, but with a subtle wave pattern rather than suns. The whole thing was tied together at the top, under her neck, by a bow, which Sansa had created specially for Jaime to be able to tug at one end and the whole ensemble would loosen enough to take off.

It was the most exquisite, detailed, thought-out outfit that Brienne had ever worn. And she truly loved it.

“I have a gift,” Sansa said when they had both suitably admired the outfit and Sansa had braided the sides of Brienne’s hair so that she looked like Brienne but slightly fancier. Brienne turned to Sansa.

“You’ve already done so much,” she protested. Sansa shook her head and opened a small box to reveal a gold necklace with a small and simple sapphire as its pendant. Brienne looked at Sansa unsurely.

“You are my closest friend and I want you to wear this. It was my mother’s.” Brienne tried to swallow the lump in her throat and fight against the burning in her eyes. She allowed Sansa to fasten the necklace and then step away.

“Perfect,” she said softly. Brienne slipped on the simple brown shoes Sansa had allowed her to wear. They would be covered by the long white legs of the outfit anyway.

“Sansa,” Brienne said, taking Sansa’s hand. “Thank you.”

Sansa nodded once and then the door went for a third time. Sansa went to open it and found Arya, Daenerys and Missandei waiting behind it. Brienne pushed her thumbs against her eyes and turned to them. Arya approached first, declaring her “fantastic” and delivering a smacking kiss to her cheek. Daenerys gave her a pair of blue gems to clip onto her ears as a gift, after telling her how marvelous the outfit was. Missandei attached the gems to her ears. It was an odd sensation but not entirely horrid.

Brienne was ready then and, swallowing, she suddenly felt a rush of nerves come to her stomach. This was it. She was marrying Jaime. This was huge.

“I am so happy that we are having a wedding,” Daenerys said as Missandei handed her the bubbly wine Arya had brought. Brienne sipped at hers and found the sensation pleasant against her tongue. “It is nice to know that a couple can be happy together even when it feels as though the whole world does not want it.”

Brienne glanced at Sansa and found her looking wistful. She was fairly certain she was thinking of Tyrion. Brienne didn’t consider the whole world to be against her and Jaime. She wondered who Daenerys meant by the whole world. From Brienne’s eyes, what the whole world thought didn’t matter. All that mattered was what she and Jaime thought. Whether Cersei or Tyrion or whoever was against it was irrelevant. Perhaps it was just Daenerys trying to find happiness in her own situation. Brienne had noticed the closeness that Daenerys had been sharing with Jon had become rather distant.

Brienne sipped more wine, deciding to put the whole thing out of her mind. It was her wedding day and, for once, she would not think of anyone but herself. And Jaime. This evening, she would think of naught but Jaime she was sure. She willed her face not to blush at that thought. Watching Sansa and Daenerys converse over a glass of wine, Brienne smiled, meeting Arya’s twinkling eyes with her own. A wedding was the perfect way to bring people together.

**XXX**

The sound of the fifty or so people in the sept shuffling suddenly to their feet alerted Jaime that Brienne had arrived. He begged the nerves in his stomach to quell so that he could say the vows properly. He bounced from heel to toe in anticipation. He was sure that Sansa had forced her into a dress that she didn’t want to wear but was too polite to say no to and she was going to look awful and it was going to be so so wonderful. She was going to be so so beautiful.

As the lute began to play, Jaime inhaled deeply, making eyes at the septon who was no doubt watching Brienne. He wanted to do this properly, to look at her for the first time at the altar. But what was the use of tradition now? She’d be here and he just wanted to look. He peered his head over his shoulder and saw her.

She was breathtaking.

A smile rose on Jaime’s face as he met her sparkling eyes, so big and blue. Arya and Sansa walked behind her. Someone had wrestled the younger Stark girl into a dress. Jaime figured that was more of a mean feat than Brienne. It was only as Brienne approached that Jaime realised that the contraption that took Brienne’s body and highlighted all of the amazing bits of it was not a dress but a top attached to an odd pair of flowy breeches that looked like they belonged in Dorne. Dressed in white, like the maid she had once been, she was truly perfection.

When she was close enough, Jaime reached his hand out to her, too desperate to wait to touch her, and she took it. Their callouses rubbed together pleasantly, making Jaime curse himself for having them apart on their wedding night. He had missed her so much. She came closer and took his stump in her other hand, her thumb caressing the sensitive skin there. Jaime looked down at it and then back up at her. Her hair had pretty bits in the sides but she still looked like Brienne.

Turning to where Sansa and Arya were finding their seats on the front row, Jaime mouthed to them, “thank you.” Arya winked and Sansa smiled. Jaime wasn’t sure if he was thanking them for delivering his bride or for ensuring her wedding was comfortable for her and not for them. 

After a brief prayer in which Jaime did not close his eyes but focussed on the wondrous woman in front of him, the septon turned to Sansa and said, “My lady, please remove the cloak.” Jaime had hardly noticed the cloak covering Brienne’s shoulders, sapphire blue with gold trimmings, too focussed on the revolutionary outfit Sansa had created her. Sansa stood and approached, removing Brienne’s cloak without forcing her to let go of Jaime’s hands. She took the cloak and returned to her seat.

Then the septon said another prayer. With all the eyes in the church closed, Jaime mouthed to his bride, “you look beautiful”. She furrowed her brow and Jaime rolled his eyes, grinning. He leaned in and pressed his mouth to her ear. “You look beautiful,” he whispered. When he pulled back, her eyes were glistening. Jaime smiled broadly. 

When the septon finished his prayer, he said, “My lord, the husband’s cloak.” 

With great regret, Jaime let go of Brienne’s hands to take the cloak from Tyrion who was seated on the front row. He met eyes with his brother and grinned, taking the red cloak, trimmed with ermine fur and covered with gold threaded-lions. Jaime moved to Brienne’s back, where he was momentarily surprised by the sight of her corset. He heaved the cloak over her shoulders and bent close to her ear, hissing softly, “you might have to help me here, wench.” She took one side of the cloak’s tie and Jaime took the other and they tied it together. Finished, Jaime pressed a butterfly’s kiss to the side of her neck and returned to his place, taking her hand and allowing her to take his stump, watching her in his house colours with great fondness. 

Yet another prayer followed. Jaime could not take his eyes from Brienne’s. He wanted to kiss her. He could not wait to kiss her and make her his wife. Lady Lannister. Jaime wondered if he would be able to call himself Jaime Lannister of Tarth after this. If he shared his title, surely she would too.

Then, the time came for the vows. Sharing a smile, they said together, “with this kiss I pledge my love.”

And then he kissed her, softly but properly. This was perhaps the only time he would ever get to kiss her truly in public, her being as she was, and he wanted to enjoy it. By the time he pulled away, her eyes were dark and her lips were puffy. Jaime grinned, ignoring the whistles and hoots that they were receiving from the guests. He could definitely pick out Bronn’s voice.

The septon smiled then and stretched out his hands. “I declare you man and wife. You are one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

_ One flesh, one heart, one soul. _

_ Now and forever. _

Unable to diminish his grin, Jaime leapt forward, cupping the back of Brienne’s neck and kissing her again.

**XXX**

Brienne smiled as the whole room cheered at their entry. Jaime had his arm wrapped around her waist, his fingers curled against her stomach. The great hall was decorated beautifully. Blue, red and gold sunbursts dangled from the ceiling and covered the walls. Tears came to Brienne’s eyes and she blinked them away quickly. The amount of effort that had gone into this wedding was appreciated immensely.

Jaime leaned over to her and Brienne felt her hairs stand on end at his closeness. “How long do you think this good feeling towards me will last?”

Brienne smiled down at him. “I think it’s actually good feeling towards me,” she teased him, enjoying the way his green eyes lit up. “I love you,” she said, wishing they weren’t in public so she could kiss him. Jaime beamed at her and pulled his fingers closer against her outfit. She wished she could feel him on her skin but this would do for now.

Brienne and Jaime had the top seats at the table. Despite Sansa saying that the feast would also celebrate the victory over the dead, the only thing seemingly celebrated was Brienne and Jaime’s wedding. Brienne wouldn’t put it past Sansa to have lied so that Brienne would agree to the feast.

They took their seats to the general applause of the Winterfell citizens. Brienne lavished her attention on Jaime, rather than focus on the amount of people looking at them and what they were doing. Sansa claimed the seat next to Brienne and Tyrion next to Jaime. The queen was further down the table. Brienne could not quite believe that the queen of Westeros had given up her seat so that they could celebrate her wedding.

“Do you like the decorations, Brienne?” Sansa asked after the first course of their midday feast was served. Brienne nodded, sipping her wine.

“I suppose you did this as well?”

Sansa shook her head. “It was her,” she said, nodding towards Queen Daenerys who was smiling without a hint of sorrow or anxiety for the war to come, seated beside Jon Snow. “She truly wanted this to be special for you.”

Brienne swallowed the lump in her throat. “I am very grateful for all you have all done.”

“ _ We _ are very grateful,” Jaime said from behind her, placing a kiss on her shoulder.

“Sorry, Sansa, I’ve stopped giving him attention for over a minute. He’s very needy.” Sansa laughed freely and Jaime squawked and punished her with a kiss to her neck which had her whipping her face towards him, flushing red and hissing “Jaime!”. He grinned freely too. Brienne felt happiness lighten her heart. The sense of freedom of responsibility in the room was wonderful.

“I am not needy,” Jaime said with a pout. Tyrion scoffed from the side of him and Brienne laughed, picking up Jaime’s goblet and passing it to him to drink while she cut up his food. “Maybe I’m only needy for you,” Jaime said, nuzzling his face against her shoulder.

Brienne flushed. “How many of those have you had?” she asked, nodding at his goblet. Jaime chuckled.

“Very few. I’m drunk on  _ you _ .” 

“You’re ridiculous, Jaime.” He grinned and winked at her when she pushed his plate back to him. He took her hand and placed a lingering kiss on her knuckles, lifting his eyes to meet hers. She found his green orbs full of promises of the night to come. A shiver ran down her spine, settled as a throb between her thighs. 

**XXX**

“It’s wonderful to watch, isn’t it?” Sansa commented as she took Jaime’s vacated seat. Jaime and Brienne were one of many couples on the dancefloor. Sansa had not expected Brienne to dance, as she had a vocalised hate for it, but Jaime had dragged her up and she was as graceful a dancer as she was a swordswoman. Sansa thought the attention of people watching the dancing had more to do with her hatred than the act itself.

Tyrion turned his head towards her, away from Jaime and Brienne. His eyes dropped to her lips and Sansa felt a satisfied squirm in her stomach at his obvious attraction to her. “It is - wonderful,” Tyrion said simply.

“Did you enjoy the wedding, my lord?” Sansa asked.

“Yes, I did,  _ my lady _ ,” he replied, emphasising the title and smiling at her in a way that made Sansa feel silly for not addressing him as though they were at least friends, if not lovers. “It was very lovely that you stood in for Brienne’s father.”

“She is my closest friend and most valued ally.”

“And here I thought you were fonder of me,” Tyrion said. Sansa turned to him, her mouth open and ready to speak when she realised he was teasing her. She blushed ever so slightly and bit her lip. “I wanted to talk to you, Sansa,” he said lowly. Sansa furrowed her brow at him. “I-” he stumbled and looked around them before fixing his eyes on hers. “Marry me.”

“What?” burst from Sansa’s mouth before she could help it.

“Marry me,” he repeated. A bubble of laughter escaped Sansa and her lips stretched into a broad smile.

“Ask again,” she demanded with joy and Tyrion rolled his eyes. “I’m going to be your wife. Do what I say! Ask again!” He smiled at her and the excitement rose in her like a swarm of birds in the morning, singly sweetly and in harmony.

“ _ Sansa _ , will you marry me?” he said slowly, enunciating each word, and Sansa grinned widely, feeling like the girl she had dreamed of being, feeling like she was living the life she had dreamed of having.

“Yes,” Sansa whispered, before leaning down and kissing him soundly on the lips. She pulled away and found him dumbfounded, his lips parted and his eyes wide. She pecked his lips again. “Husband.”

Tyrion broke out of his trance with a genuine smile, no sarcasm or mocking to be found. “ _ Wife _ .”

**XXX**

Tyrion watched Sansa dance with her brother. Inside, his stomach twisted with the disappointment of knowing he would never dance with her like Jon was dancing with her.

“Lord Tyrion.” His queen’s voice interrupted his pity party.

“Your grace,” Tyrion replied, inclining his head and watching her take Jaime’s seat, where Sansa had been sitting before Jon stole her from him. “How can I be of service to you?”

“Did I just see you kiss Lady Stark?” Daenerys said lightly. Tyrion grimaced.

“Well, I rather think she kissed me, but yes, for all intents and purposes, you are right.”

Tyrion knew that sarcasm would not help here but it was the Lannister default and his most powerful defensive weapon. Daenerys gave him a chilling look. “And when were you going to tell me about your relationship with Lady Sansa?”

“It was hardly a relationship worth speaking about until just now, your grace,” Tyrion said, though he knew it was not true. The second Sansa had kissed him the first time, he had been gone, lost in affection for her, if not love. “I have just asked her to marry me.”

Daenerys’ whole face screwed up. “And were you going to talk to me about this  _ at all _ ?”

Tyrion glanced at Sansa, at her smile, at the way her body moved. She was so glorious, such a perfect lady. He did not know what he had done to deserve such a woman but he was so pleased to have her. And have her he would. He turned back to Daenerys but found that her face had softened. “You are in love with her,” she stated.

Tyrion’s mouth dropped open. “I care deeply for Sansa,” he insisted. Daenerys nodded once and reached for his hand.

“Who am I to deny your happiness, my lord hand?”

And, with a squeeze of his hand, she stood and left the ballroom. Tyrion’s lips parted. He had no clue what had happened there.

**XXX**

Jaime was stealing a moment with his wife outside of the great hall when the dragon queen interrupted. “Lord Jaime,” she said, striding over to him. Jaime noticed she was without a guard but didn’t comment on it. “I wish to give you a wedding gift of a sort.” Furrowing his brow, Jaime considered the wording of her sentence. “I want to allow you and your men to fight in the war.”

Jaime’s mouth fell open. “Your grace-” he started without knowing how he would finish. Thankfully, she cut in before he could. Jaime felt Brienne’s thumb brush the back of his hand and he squeezed her hand in gratitude.

“Do not betray me, Ser Jaime. I do not deal well with betrayal.” Jaime nodded once, swallowing harshly. She left then, continuing walking past them. Jaime wondered briefly why she was alone and less briefly what had changed her mind about letting him fight. He leaned his head back against the cold stone wall behind him, Brienne standing stalwart by his side.

“I’m tired, Jaime,” Brienne whispered a few instants later. Jaime turned curious eyes to her. It was barely the middle of the afternoon. He glanced outside the open door a few steps away. The sun had set but it was nowhere near time for sleep. He met her eyes. “I’m tired,” she insisted with wide eyes.

A smirk rose on Jaime’s face. His wife was not tired at all. “It is not even four, my love,” he said, peeling himself from the wall to stand fully upright by her. He rubbed circles on her palm with his thumb.

“The sun has set,” she said a bit unsurely. Jaime’s lips twitched.

“This is the North. The sun sets early here. Do you not want to enjoy our wedding feast more?” he teased. Her face fell.

“Do you want to take me to bed or not?” she demanded and Jaime’s laughter burst from him, forgetting all about the dragon queen and her threats should he betray her.

“I definitely do,” he said, glancing at the merriment going on within the great hall. “Let’s go to bed, wife,” Jaime said, enjoying the endearment about as much as he enjoyed wench, though he was sure Brienne appreciated this new one more than the old.

“Bed,” Brienne confirmed, her eyes flashing. With one last glance at the feast, Jaime wondered whether he should have drunk less wine. He had a feeling his wife was going to keep him up all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to finish chapter 11 today!! I'm halfway there - and there's some Jonerys things happening idk how you all feel about that but it's the first time I've written it


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The honeymoon is over, there is a meeting, a proposal, a wedding and some flurries of happiness for Arya and Gendry

“Good morning,” Jaime purred as he felt Brienne roll her shoulders. He had been watching her sleep for a little while, very proud of the fact that he had woken before her. She let out a little humming noise in response and flicked her eyes open. Jaime smiled and leaned down to kiss her. Her lips in the morning were somehow even fuller than in the rest of the day. It would be a sad day if Jaime did not kiss them immediately upon waking. “How do you feel?”

Brienne propped herself up onto her elbows, exposing her lovely breasts to Jaime’s view. “Sore,” she teased him. Jaime chuckled, reaching down to idly stroke her mound. “I can’t wait to get back to Sansa. She doesn’t work me half as hard.”

Jaime laughed, leaning across to press a kiss to her shoulder. “I certainly hope she doesn’t!” Brienne chuckled.

“Come on. I need to bathe. I’m covered in all sorts after last night,” Brienne said with a heated look at him. Jaime grinned. The servant had brought them a bath in about ten minutes ago. It had been what woke Jaime up, though Brienne slept straight through it. Jaime had commented to the maid that he had worn his wife out too much last night, which led to the maid’s titters and giggles as she fled the room.

Brienne got into the bath first and Jaime settled happily between her thighs. It was his favourite place to be. “You realise most men would prefer to be on the outside,” Brienne said, amused. She wrapped her arms around Jaime’s chest. Jaime pressed the side of his face to her breast.

“I don’t know if you’ve realised this, sweetling, but I’m not most men,” he murmured, trying to turn his face far enough to suck on her nipple. He got far enough to lick her breast. She looked at him with amusement.

“You are certainly not.” They lay there in silence for a few moments, not really washing, more stewing in their filth, but it was a comfortable silence. Jaime loved these silences. They represented the peace that he and Brienne had found in the midst of chaos and the very fact that they could spend time in silence meant that their relationship was real, not a series of rushed couplings. “I’m going to miss this,” Brienne said. Jaime shifted his head so that he was leaning back against her shoulder.

“Me too,” he replied. “But I assure you that I am going to steal every free moment you have so that we have enough time to be like this.”

“Yeah?” Brienne said with a smile. Jaime nodded, humming lightly. He would spend his life with her like this, though perhaps not in the bath where they would become wrinkly weirdos. “I’ll steal every free moment of yours too then.”

“Every moment of mine is free for you.”

Brienne scoffed, as she liked to do when Jaime made a silly romantic statement. “If that were true, this honeymoon would not be ending. No, Jaime, we still have lives apart from each other and we have to keep things going, though I would love to have you in my arms forever.”

“Real life starts now,” Jaime said bitterly. He wanted more. He wanted more of this. But he knew that the only way he was going to get more of this was if he fought the war and set a steady monarch on the throne. “When we leave this room, we have to start it, don’t we?” he asked. He didn’t need to say what it was. Brienne knew well he was scared to fight Cersei.

Brienne pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. “I love you,” she said. Jaime smiled and buried his head into her neck.

“I love you,” he mumbled into her.

**XXX**

“No, no, I refuse to let you leave our bed,” Tyrion groaned, holding tight to Sansa’s arm in the morning as she escaped from him, completely naked. “It should be illegal for you to leave me like this.”

Sansa threw his doublet at him. Tyrion let out a noise of discontent as she dressed. She laughed, her face lighting up with it. “You are far too beautiful to be allowed to wear clothes. You should have to stay here and naked for me at all times.”

“At all times?” Sansa questioned, eyebrow quirked as she adjusted her stockings. “We both know you are too old to go  _ all _ the time.

Tyrion squawked, feeling his pride take a hit. “I have no idea what I mean, you rude woman!” he faux-complained. She chuckled, throwing a grey gown from her wardrobe over her shift and tightening it with a black belt. “Please just stay awhile longer,” he pleaded.

Sansa added yet another layer to her outfit. Tyrion knew that it was all to keep out the cold, something he entirely understood, but each layer felt like it took Sansa further and further away from him, from staying in his bed. “I am meeting Brienne for breakfast. I promised I would. I need to discuss getting things back to normal.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes, propping up his pillows so that he was more comfortable. “I am entirely sure of my brother’s ability to entice his wife back to bed. If you go now, you will prove that I do not have the same ability.”

Sansa pursed her lips, kneeling on the bed to reach over and give him a lingering kiss. “I am entirely sure of Brienne’s ability to say no to Jaime, just as I am sure of my own to say no to you.” Tyrion groaned and Sansa kissed him again before pulling away to sort out some footwear for herself.

“If Brienne isn’t there, she’s getting fucked and I hope you remember that you could have been too,” Tyrion grumbled. Sansa’s lips twitched.

“I will see you tonight,” she promised. Tyrion smiled at her.

“I cannot wait.” With another smile, Sansa swung her hair and left their chambers.

**XXX**

“Good morning, Sansa,” Arya said as Sansa entered the room. Brienne was already sitting at the table too. Sansa tampered down her smirk. Screw Tyrion. She was right.

“Good morning, Arya.  _ Brienne _ ,” she said with a wink. Brienne choked on her water. Arya snickered and Sansa grinned. She had missed her friend this week, while she had been on her mini honeymoon. “How was your week?”

Brienne flushed and looked at her food, confirming Sansa’s suspicions that she and Jaime had done naught but fuck all week. “Very pleasant, thank you, Sansa.”

Arya snorted. “ _ Very pleasant _ . What an endorsement for Jaime Lannister. Would you say his brother is  _ very pleasant _ , Sansa?” Arya said, turning to Sansa. Sansa scowled. She liked Arya’s bawdy comments less when they were directed towards her. She found no help when she glanced to Brienne, who clearly thought the comeuppance was well deserved.

“I have not the faintest idea what you are talking about,” Sansa said, putting on a posh King’s Landing court accent. “Tyrion and I are unmarried. I will have to inform you after the fact.” Arya rolled her eyes.

“Would you say marriage makes a difference to fucking, Brienne?” Arya asked with fake curiosity in her voice. Sansa chuckled and shared an amused look with a blushing Brienne.

“I told Tyrion that this breakfast would be about getting things back to normal now that Brienne is back to work,” Sansa said, looking between her friend and sister, though more particularly at her unflustered sister.

“Then you shouldn’t have invited me,” Arya said as she shovelled eggs into her mouth. Sansa rolled her eyes.

“I’m not sure I did. I think you invited yourself.”

Arya shrugged. “Same thing.”

“With all this talk of sex, Arya,” Sansa started, shooting a look at Brienne, “one would almost think you had some experience of your own.”

_ That _ finally had Arya flustered. She opened her mouth to speak and then looked back down at her food. Brienne coughed lightly, to cover up a laugh, Sansa thought. “Like you, Sansa, I am unmarried and, therefore, I am the picture of the Maiden.”

Sansa scoffed. “The Maiden would not have asked me whether Tyrion’s cock is proportionate.” Brienne’s laughter seemed to fall from her mouth. “Come on, Arya, you’ve been torturing Brienne and I for two weeks. Who are you fucking?” Though Brienne did not speak, Sansa noticed that she was watching with rapt curiosity.

Arya cleared her throat and lay her fork down on her plate. Sansa glanced at Brienne who furrowed her brow. “Well, he’s not a Lannister, so I know that neither of you will be interested.” Sansa threw her napkin at her sister. “He- erm, well, his name is Gendry Waters and he is a smith. He made most of the dragonglass weapons for the battle. He went beyond the wall with Jon.”

Sansa noticed that Arya said his full name, despite his bastard’s name. Sansa wondered if she did it to make a point that she did not care, to dare Brienne and Sansa to say anything. “How did you meet?”

“After I left King’s Landing, he was part of the group that I was travelling to the Wall with. He realised I wasn’t who I said I was. We became friends and then he left and I went to Essos.” Sansa nodded slowly.

“And are you in love with him?”

Arya groaned. “Shut up, Sansa.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Arya,” Brienne said gently. Arya shrugged. “I thought love was stupid once too and then I realised that you can be a girl who fights with a sword and a girl who wants a partner.”

“A partner,” Arya repeated. “That’s what Jaime is to you, your partner?” For once, Arya’s comment about Jaime was not said with mocking, but with curiosity. Partner was a good term for Tyrion too. Sansa was not in love with him but he was her partner for life.

Brienne nodded. “Yes.”

“And he sees it that way too?” Arya questioned. “He doesn’t want you to give up the sword and become a soft girl?”

Brienne snorted, her eyes sparkling. Sansa’s lips stretched into an amused smile. She had a feeling that was the very opposite of what Jaime Lannister wanted. “No, Arya. Jaime is very happy for me to fight with a sword and not be a soft girl.”

Arya nodded, picking her sword up again. “I’ll consider it.”

Sansa chuckled slightly. “You’ll  _ consider _ falling in love with him?”

Arya nodded. “I think you have to let yourself, don’t you?”

Sansa swallowed as she watched Brienne nod too. She had always just assumed it would be all-consuming. The idea of letting herself fall in love was possibly the most freeing, romantic notion she had ever considered. Her stomach flurried with anxiety and excitement.

**XXX**

“Our scouts will leave in four days,” Daenerys announced, leaning on her hands on the table as she looked out across the room. Jon watched her. Her facial expressions were intense. This was her life’s work and it was starting in four days. “A day after the scouts, the vanguard will leave and then, two days later, the rest of the army.”

“The Lannister troops are going to wait for the rest of their army to arrive and protect Winterfell. Lady Sansa will remain here with a small amount of Northern troops who will stay after Lord Marbrand arrives.” Jon met Sansa’s eyes and she smiled with ease. Jon thought she might have finally moved on after all that Ramsay put her through.

“We should arrive at the twins in a month, provided good travel,” Daenerys finished with a smile. “That is all for today, but I did want to make more of a personal announcement.” Jon furrowed his brow, glancing around the room. He tried to meet Sansa’s eyes but she was staring steadfastly at Daenerys. Daenerys reached out and placed her hand on Tyrion’s shoulder. “My dear lord hand is remarrying,” she said.

Jon’s eyebrows flew high up his face. Jaime Lannister wolfwhistled and his wife hit him across the chest, making Jon’s lips twitch. “Lord Tyrion and Lady Sansa will be married before we leave for the Twins and he will remain here with her.”

Jon’s lips parted and his eyes found their way to Sansa. Jon was not the only one staring at her, though he thought he was the only one with a right to. She was his sister and had not informed him that she was marrying. There was a brief pause before people brought their hands together to clap. Jon joined in slowly, wondering how he had missed the signs that his sister had found someone. He wondered if she was in love with Tyrion. He’d been so caught up in his own life, his own problems, that he hadn’t been looking out for Sansa.

Daenerys looked at Sansa and Tyrion. They sat beside each other but Jon noticed they were not touching. Perhaps Sansa was not yet ready for touch after Ramsay. Perhaps she was just ready for comfort. Jon did not want to consider Sansa and Tyrion’s marriage bed. His nose wrinkled automatically. “I hope you will be happy forever, my dear friends,” Daenerys said of them. Jon could hear the tears in her voice. He had not known that she considered Sansa to be her friend.

Sansa smiled up at Daenerys. Jon couldn’t tell if it was real or not. When she turned to smile at her husband, though, pure joy radiated from Sansa’s face. Jon’s heart settled. He could let her marry Tyrion. He trusted Tyrion. He would not hurt her.

Daenerys dismissed them all, including Sansa and Tyrion. As she left, Sansa met Jon’s eyes and smiled at him, the way she had smiled once, when she had still believed that all princes were worthy and all husbands were full of love. Jon smiled back, inclining his head once. His little sister was about to become a Lannister, again. Whatever would his father think?

Turning to Daenerys, Jon remembered with a twinge that Eddard Stark was not his father and Sansa was not his sister at all. “When will Sansa be married?” Jon asked Daenerys quietly. Daenerys smiled.

“This evening,” she said with a conspiratorial tone. Jon raised his eyebrows. “She wanted it to be small and intimate, in the godswood, with just her family and friends. I am sure she is going to speak to you before then.”

Jon shrugged. “There’s no need, as long as I am invited.”

Daenerys gave him a funny look. “Who else will give her away?” Jon felt a lump rise in his throat. If that was what Sansa wanted, he would do it. But she was her own person and she could give herself away. “Sansa proposed to Tyrion, you know.”

Daenerys’ tone was light but it belied a deeper meaning that Jon couldn’t find. “She deserved the chance to choose for herself,” Jon replied. Daenerys nodded, turning to him. Her eyes were truly phenomenal. They made Jon’s insides go funny, especially when he saw them sparkling with tears as they were then. “Dany,” he said in low tones.

She swallowed. Jon watched her throat bob with the effort. “I know why you are withdrawn from me,” she whispered. Jon closed his eyes. “I know that what we want isn’t right, in your eyes. I understand that but do we not deserve to be happy? If Sansa and Tyrion can choose their happiness despite everything, why can’t we?”

“Sansa is not Tyrion’s aunt,” Jon said slowly, as kindly as he could. Daenerys nodded.

“I know that,” she said a bit impatiently. They had discussed this so many times, though, admittedly, without the comparison of Sansa and Tyrion. “But what is so wrong about it? The issue would be children and - Jon, I’m barren.” The last part came out in a sob. Jon closed his eyes. He wondered what his father would think, what Eddard Stark would think. With a twinge in his heart, Jon wondered what Lyanna Stark would have thought of this. Would she be ashamed that he had lain with Dany? Jon wanted to believe that she could see love. Her love had torn the Seven Kingdoms apart.

“We could be together without risking children, Jon. I cannot have them. We can be happy,” she said, staring up at him, hope shining in those purple Targaryen eyes. Perhaps it would be easier to say know if Jon looked like a Targaryen, if he considered himself to be a Targaryen, but he was a Stark. He’d always wanted to be a Stark, had always considered himself a Stark. And he was half a Stark in his blood, anyway, and all Stark in his upbringing. Surely that outweighed Targaryen. And he wanted to be happy.

“I don’t want to be king,” Jon said, looking away from her. It was wrong. All of this was wrong, no matter how much he wanted it.

“That is precisely what you should be king,” Dany argued. Jon closed his eyes. He understood that argument. It was the same argument that Davos had presented him with, many times. Dany wanted the throne too much. Jon would balance her out. “Jon, Tyrion is leaving me. Ser Jorah is gone. I need someone to keep me level-headed. I worry for myself.”

It was Dany’s deepest fears, laid out on the table before him. Jon opened his eyes to see her. He did see her, truly, perhaps more than anybody else. She did want the throne, but she wanted it for the good she could do as well as the power she could have.

“I won’t let you lose yourself,” Jon promised gruffly. He would not, could not, watch her fall into the same hole that her father had gone into. She was better than that, deserved better than that.

“Stand by my side.” It was more of a statement than a question, really, though Jon knew it required an answer.  _ Stand by my side _ . Marrying Dany, being with Dany would be no hardship. Jon was in love with her, had been since the first time he saw her. Being king though… He had no wish for it, had hated the power that came with being Lord Commander, that came with being King in the North. But staring at her, her eyes big and sparkling with hope and love, Jon wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with her.

He deserved some happiness. Closing his eyes, he begged the man who raised him and his true parents to forgive him. “Okay,” he whispered. Dany breathed out a sob as her face spread into a smile. She cupped his cheek and brought his lips to hers. The rest of their lives started there.

**XXX**

“This is nice,” Tyrion commented as he spread butter on bread for his brother and passed it to him. Jaime smiled at him in thanks, picking up some of the cooked meats that the kitchen had provided him with. “It’s been a long time since we really spent time together.”

“Don’t be soft, Tyrion,” Jaime said with a roll of his eyes. Tyrion laughed through his nose. “We’ve been dicks to each other for a while now and I wanted to apologise for what I’ve said.”

“Well, a lunch is definitely the way to do that,” Tyrion said, sipping his goblet of wine. Jaime chuckled. “Yes, what was it you said? ‘I’m creating a new family. I don’t need my old one.’ Wagged your finger in my face as well.”

“Yes, I had to reach quite far down. It was very uncomfortable.” Tyrion shook his head, guffawing. Jaime gave his brother half a smile. “I truly am sorry. There will never be a time that I do not want you to be part of my family.”

Tyrion smiled sadly. “Even when I tell your wife that I think you are marrying her just to make your sister jealous?”

Jaime’s eye twitched. “Yes, even then,” he ground out. Tyrion smirked, looking away.

“I do see it now,” Tyrion said lightly, after a gulp of wine. “I see that you love her. I see who you are.”

Jaime nodded, his throat burning. “Thank you.”

“She is rather tall, though. It is as though you want to punish me.”

Jaime barked in laughter. “Your own wife is quite tall too.”

Tyrion sighed as though it was a great difficulty for him. “Yes, her one flaw.”

“Are you ready to be married?”

Tyrion raised his eyebrows at Jaime. “Yes,” he said simply. “Are you enjoying being married?”

Jaime’s lips twitched, remembering their past week. “Very much so.”

“I’m sure.” Tyrion’s tone was amused. “I am rather sad that Sansa and I will not be able to have a week as you and your bride did.” Jaime inclined his head. “But there are more important things to get on with and, in a week, when Daenerys has left with most of the armies, I am sure I can convince her to stay in bed all day.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way,” Jaime said with a sip of his wine. Tyrion grinned fiendishly. “So, tonight?”

“Tonight,” Tyrion repeated, nodding. “You will be there?”

Jaime found a lump in his throat that he had to wait a moment to let subside. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

**XXX**

“Are you excited for the wedding?” Jaime asked, approaching Brienne from behind and leaning his chin on her shoulder. Brienne hummed. Jaime moved his arms around her, leaving his stump at her waist but placing his left hand flat on her stomach. Brienne squirmed against him, making Jaime pull her closer and press a kiss to her neck.

“Jaime,” she sighed. “Stop being silly.”

Jaime did not remove his hand. They had spoken enough this week for him to know that she truly did not mind him discussing the possibility or probability of having a baby. In fact, she rather enjoyed it. “When will we know?” he asked against her neck, rubbing his hand in circles on her blue gown. She was wearing a gown that Sansa had made for her, especially for Sansa’s special day, as a sort of wedding gift.

Brienne let out a sound of irritation. “Probably not for a few weeks yet. I will let you know as soon as my moonblood is late.” Jaime groaned. He wanted to know so that he could start thinking of baby names and of making a cot for a nursery and of all those fun things. He’d wanted to be a father for as long as he could remember, had sacrificed the dream for Cersei.

Brienne batted his hand away from his stomach and turned around. She had braided her hair away from her face as Sansa had done for their wedding, leaving some loose in the middle. Jaime didn’t understand how it worked but he thought it looked nice. He pressed a kiss to her lips, light but lingering. “I’ll soon think you only want me as a baby factory,” she teased.

Jaime squawked and pulled her closer to him. “I thought all my attentions this past week would have proved that that was not the case.”

Brienne scoffed but her eyes twinkled. “That could actually make a better case for my theory.” Jaime chuckled and pressed a kiss to her exposed collarbone.

“I promise you that even if we never have a child I will be happy with you forever.”

“You’re a softie, Jaime Lannister,” Brienne said, leaning down to kiss his lips. Jaime smiled against hers. “I love you,” she whispered. Jaime returned the sentiment. “Let’s go and watch your brother get married.”

Jaime stepped back and offered her his arm. “I’m not entirely sure that you and Sansa marrying me and Tyrion was not some elaborate plan to become sisters.” Brienne let out a huge peal of laughter that made Jaime grin. She was the very opposite of a polite, refined lady and he absolutely loved her for it. He was a softie.

**XXX**

“I’d ask you if you were sure but I know you would not have asked him if you were not,” Jon said quietly to Sansa as they entered the godswood, their arms linked. Sansa wished Theon were here to see that she was getting married happily this time. She hoped he was in peace now.

“I am sure,” Sansa replied to her brother. “This time things will be well.”

Jon smiled at her, patting her arm. “I know. There are very few men I would trust with you, but he is one.”

Sansa smiled. “I feel exactly the same. Come on, Jon, I want to get married.”

“Father would be so happy to see you happy,” Jon said as they turned. Sansa nodded. “This was all he ever wanted for you, a good and gentle man.”

“I know,” Sansa said and her throat burned with tears. It had been on her mind a lot since she had asked Tyrion to marry her. She was sure that her mother would have liked Tyrion too, if she had the chance to get to know him. 

Sansa could hear the lute playing as she approached. There were very few people in the godswood, just as Sansa had wanted, just Arya and her smith, Brienne and Jaime, Daenerys, Bran and, of course, Tyrion, waiting for her before the heart tree. Sansa felt her eyes prick with tears. This was her choice and she was making the right one.

Jon led her to Tyrion. Their friends stood in a circle around them. Jaime spoke for Tyrion, in the obvious absence of a father. “Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” he said, watching the two of them. Sansa noticed that Brienne was holding Jaime’s stump as his only hand held a torch to light the clearing.

“Sansa, of the House Stark,” Jon replied. Sansa loved her brother for doing this for her. She wished it were her father but, in his absence, there was no one better than Jon, who had looked after her since her escape from Ramsay. There were so many people that should have been there but it was perfect even so. “A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?”

“Tyrion, of the House Lannister, hand to Queen Daenerys,” Tyrion replied. Sansa smiled at him and he smiled back at hers. There was so much joy here, no fear. It was so different from Sansa’s last wedding, so different from her first, where she had been so uncertain, so young and confused. “Who gives her?”

Jon hesitated and Sansa glanced at him. She wondered if he was thinking of father. “Jon, of the House Stark, her brother,” he said and his tone was forceful, as though daring somebody to question it. Sansa smiled. There was no truer Stark.

“Lady Sansa, do you take this man?” Jaime asked. Sansa looked down to Tyrion and took his hand, letting go of Jon’s arm. Her hand shook but Tyrion reached up to take it in his own, brushing his thumb against the back of her hand. A few tears slipped from Sansa’s eyes. She knelt down so that she could meet his eyes. He smiled and Sansa’s heart warmed.

“I take this man,” she said finally, her throat clogged with emotion as she reached forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. He returned the kiss and their friends around them clapped and cheered. Sansa heard Jaime wolfwhistle and she chuckled against Tyrion’s lips, pulling back and meeting his eyes. She blinked to clear them and found him doing the same.

Married, a third time and yet it felt as though it could be her first. Sansa let out a giggle and Tyrion grinned at her, leaning forward to kiss her once more.

**XXX**

As they wandered back towards the castle, following Sansa and Tyrion, Gendry reached for Arya’s hand. Arya surprised herself by taking it. Perhaps it was the romantic atmosphere, or her conversation with Brienne and Sansa that morning. Either way, she was happy to be with him, happy to take his hand. Love was not weakness. He could be a comfort to her, a partner to her and that did not make her lesser.

“Would you ever get married?” Gendry asked quietly. Arya’s mind froze but she remembered Brienne calling Jaime her partner. Brienne was as like Arya as any other woman and she had not become lesser in Arya’s eyes by marrying Jaime. In fact, Arya respected the fact that Brienne had found a man that let her be who she wanted to be. In her heart, Arya knew that Gendry was the same.

“Would you?” Arya asked rather than answering.

Gendry nodded. “I like the idea of being a team.”

Arya smiled. “I like that idea too.”

“Would you ever marry me?” he asked and, from his casual tone, Arya knew it was not a proposal, just a question. She swallowed her fear and doubts and remembered the way she felt about him. 

“We are a team. I would- I would not mind making that permanent.”

Gendry’s face lit up and she knew she had given him the right answer. He brought her hand to his mouth to kiss it, making Arya purse her lips. He was so soft sometimes. “One day,” he promised. Arya smiled.  _ One day _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying to write this weekly, though it should have been up yesterday! I hope you enjoy :)


	12. Chapter 12

“So, how is married life treating you, sister?” Jon asked as he entered the solar. Sansa looked up from the papers she was reading and smiled at the sight of her brother, his eyes sparkling with the happiness which had been found there ever since his private wedding to Daenerys just three days past.

Sansa smiled at her brother. “Very well. I was just about to leave and return to my husband, actually. How are you finding being married?”

Jon’s smile was genuine and it made Sansa very pleased. Since they had been reunited, she had not seen Jon so happy, not even when they had regained Winterfell. “It is more than I could have imagined,” Jon said simply. Sansa knew that her brother was not one for too much overstated emotion. His statement alone showed Sansa how her brother felt for Daenerys and, though Sansa was not necessarily Daenerys’ biggest fan, it was another reason to try with her, on top of her husband’s loyalty to her and all she had done for Brienne’s wedding. Even so, Sansa still had that feeling about her that she had had since she had arrived at Winterfell.

“Jon,” Sansa said carefully. She almost stopped herself but the peaceful look on her brother’s face made her do otherwise. A man at peace was a man who was not watching out for himself. She would not bear to see her brother hurt, just because he hadn’t been on the lookout. Jon narrowed his eyes at her. “Be careful.”

Jon hesitated, his face caught between annoyance and understanding. Sansa bit her lip, worrying that she had screwed up their close relationship that she treasured. Jon nodded. “I am always careful, Sansa,” he said with half a smile, “but she is the woman I love. I know that my heart is safe in her hands.”

Sansa had a feeling that he was right. His heart was safe in Daenerys’ hands. It had been clear since they arrived that Daenerys loved Jon. Perhaps Sansa was making a selfish request, that he be careful that Daenerys took as much care with her people, with their people, as she did with his heart. Sansa did not say anything, unwilling to ruin this goodbye.

“Take care of Tyrion,” Jon said. Sansa smiled at the thought of her week-old marriage. Jon’s friendship with Tyrion was clear from the way the two spoke about each other and it made Sansa glad.

“We take care of each other.”

Jon scoffed out a laugh. “I don’t need to hear anything about that,” he said, his face creasing as he smiled. Sansa laughed in surprise. Her brother was not one to make anything close to a dirty joke, not in front of her anyway. Sansa stood, leaving her papers at her desk.

“I’m going to miss you,” she said honestly. “I doubt there will ever be a time again that we live together as we have at Winterfell.” Jon nodded severely.

“And that is right. You and Tyrion will take good care of the North and Dany and I will care for the rest of the kingdoms. I swear I will never let a year go by without seeing you.” Her brother was so earnest that Sansa felt tears come to her eyes. She stepped forward to hug him, closing her eyes against his shoulder.

“I love you, Jon,” she said against his furs. He nodded and she felt his hand on the back of her head.

“I love you too, sister,” he said, pulling away and taking her hands. Sansa smiled, ignoring the way her eyes were slowly streaming. They squeezed at each other’s hands and then Jon took his hands from hers. With one last smile, he left Sansa alone in her solar, feeling a pang in her heart at the thought of her brother being far away, with few that Sansa trusted.

XXX

An hour or so later, Sansa returned to her room, which was attached to her solar. She had decided to finish up a few more papers than originally planned, to distract her from Jon’s leaving. She did not want to take her tears back to her bedroom, to Tyrion. Their original chambers had held too many tears.

Instead of her husband, though, Sansa found her sister pacing in her room. Not bothering to ask how she had entered without Sansa knowing, Sansa sat down in her armchair and curled her legs underneath her. Sighing, she said, “What’s wrong, Arya?”

“I swore to kill Cersei,” Arya said. Her eyes were wild. Sansa thought she might have been crying but she didn’t mention it. Sansa nodded. She’d thought for awhile that Arya had the intentions of killing the queen. “I swore it to myself.”

“Yes, Arya,” Sansa said, nodding again.

“Gendry asked me to marry him.” Sansa blinked in surprise. She had thought from the conversation they had had last week at breakfast with Brienne that Arya might get married one day, but she had expected that to be a long way away, after years travelling, possibly with Gendry. “I want to marry him. I want to do it properly. He didn’t even really ask me yet but we discussed it and we both agreed it was a good idea and I have to kill Cersei.”

Sansa swallowed. “You don’t have to kill Cersei, Arya,” she said gently. Arya shook her head vehemently.

“I do have to, Sansa. I swore it once, a long time ago, and then again, a few weeks ago. I owe it to myself, to Father, to you and, not to be soft, but I want to do it for Brienne. And Jaime, I suppose.”

Sansa smiled softly at her sister. “He likely won’t thank you.”

“And that’s why I’m going to do it.” Arya groaned aloud, covering her face with her hands. “It’s not that I don’t think I can marry Gendry and kill her. It’s just that- if I go, now,” she said hesitantly, “if I go now and I arrive and die-”

“Arya,” Sansa said, cutting her off. She sort of understood what her sister wanted to say, that she did not want to risk the future happiness that she was envisaging with Gendry but that she still felt as though she had to take on Cersei. Sansa inclined her head to her sister. “You should go and catch up with the vanguard. You should find Gendry and ask him to marry you as soon as you are done.”

Arya bit her lip. “What if he says that I should stay with him?”

Sansa shook her head, leaning it against the head of the armchair. “Then you shouldn’t marry him.” Arya nodded and came closer to Sansa. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to Sansa’s forehead. Sansa smiled sleepily at her sister. “Come back, Arya. Promise me you’ll come back.”

“I’ll do my best, Sansa,” Arya promised. They shared an intense look and then Arya swept out of the room, closing the door softly on her way out. Sansa closed her eyes and brought her knees closer to her chest, her chin leaning against one.

“Are you alright, Sansa?” interrupted a few minutes later. Sansa smiled at the sound of Tyrion’s voice. He must have entered through her solar. Sansa did not open her eyes but extended her hand to draw him close. His hand fit in hers very nicely. 

“I said goodbye to Jon and then to Arya.”

“Oh,” Tyrion said. Sansa smiled. “Can I get you anything?”

Sansa shook her head. “A kiss,” she requested, leaning forward to give him access to her lips. She heard his chuckle and then felt his lips, soft and gentle against hers. She smiled against his and then pulled away, smiling and pressing her fingers to her lips. She opened her eyes and found him looking at her, concerned. “Sorry that I am melancholy,” Sansa said. “My siblings and I have been together for a short while, too short to be separated again and I just feel rather lonely, what with Bran hardly being the same.”

Tyrion nodded. “I know.” Sansa smiled. He would know exactly how she felt when Jaime left with his troops in a few weeks. For now, though, Sansa had Tyrion’s family to replace her own and she loved Brienne almost as much as her own siblings. And Jaime was growing on her at an exponential rate every time she saw Brienne smile. “What did Jon say of the marriage?”

Sansa smiled at her gossip husband. “Only that he was happy. Did Daenerys say anything?” Tyrion shook his head. “I told Jon to be careful.”

Sansa could not read Tyrion’s face. It made her feel a little bit uneasy. “He has little to worry about,” he tried to assure her. Sansa stifled her sigh, remembering where Tyrion’s loyalties were, despite their marriage. Her loyalties would have to remain solely to her family and the North whilst his remained with Daenerys, else she was very likely to begin to fall in love with him. And she had been through enough in her short life to be subjected to an unrequited love with her own husband.

Sansa stood and offered Tyrion her hand, leading him to their marriage bed. For now, this was the best way to show their affection. At least here she had Tyrion’s complete loyalty.

XXX

Brienne approached Jaime from behind, wrapping her arms around his waist. He settled his hand on her hand and she leaned her head against his shoulder. “What are you looking at, love?” she asked.

Jaime smiled at the nickname and pressed the side of his head against hers. The courtyard was empty but Jaime was staring out anyway. “I was watching the troops leave but then they were all gone.” Brienne turned to Jaime curiously. He pecked her on the lips, making her smile. “I’m scared of facing her.”

Brienne didn’t need any more context. She knew that the ‘her’ he referred to was his sister and she also knew that this had been on his mind for a while now, at least since they had gone back to work after the honeymoon. “I know, Jaime,” she said softly. “We don’t have to go. We could just send the troops.”

Jaime did not meet her eyes. Brienne truly would not mind staying out of the action. If it kept Jaime safe, if it kept him sane, she would stay in Winterfell forever. “I would never be able to look you in the eye if we did not go.” Brienne watched him carefully but he didn’t turn his head back to her. She kept her eyes on his jaw, which was tight. She brought her hand up to rub it and he pressed his cheek against her palm.

“I would never judge you for that, Jaime. You do not have to go to war with Cersei to prove your love for me.”

Jaime shook his head. “It’s not just that. You are- I know that you would not force me to war or even encourage me there if you thought it was bad for me or that I didn’t want it, but I would never be able to explain myself to our children, to anyone I ever met if I did not. I won’t lie and say that I want to fight Cersei. The thought makes me sick but I have to do this, to end things properly. Do you understand?”

Brienne did understand. She rubbed his bearded jawline. “It’s okay to be scared, Jaime. I’m going to be with you every step of the way. I promise.”

Jaime finally turned to look at her. “I love you so much,” he said and his eyes were full of tears. Brienne turned so that she could hold his head to her shoulder and his whole body close to her. She blinked back her own tears at the thought that she couldn’t protect him from the emotions that Cersei would stir up inside him.

“I love you,” she murmured softly, stroking her fingers through his hair. She would do what she could and then be there for the fallout.

XXX

Arya arrived in silence, in darkness, on the third day of travel from Winterfell towards the Twins, towards the first battle. She’d been playing over what to say for three days, never having had any experience of this, nor having truly observed love since she was much younger. And her parents had hardly ever been open with their affection. Closer to the present, she had seen the overt love between Brienne and Jaime, but again they rarely verbalised the way they felt. Arya truly had no idea how she was supposed to explain to Gendry how she felt.

She’d likely have arrived sooner if she hadn’t been so anxious about this conversation. She wanted Gendry to know how she felt but also to understand the obligation she felt to finish Cersei for good. And, if it went wrong, all she could hear were Sansa’s words: “Then you shouldn’t marry him”. 

Arya wanted to be a team with Gendry. She wanted him to be her partner. The world was quite lonely when you didn’t have a partner. Sansa had been her partner for a little bit and that had been nice but they were very different and, anyway, Sansa was married, now, to Tyrion and Arya knew that, as soon as she let herself fall in love with him, he would be her partner in everything. She wanted the same thing.

And she was already in love with Gendry, as soft as that sentiment made her feel. She’d been in love with him for as long as she could remember. Or maybe she’d just loved him until they met again, when she finally fell in love with him. All of that was semantics only Sansa cared about. Arya loved Gendry and she wanted to be his partner.

But she had to kill Cersei first.

Arya found Gendry quite easily. She had found him a Northern tent to take with him so that he would not have to sleep rough. He’d been very sweet about it but it was just a practicality that the silly boy wouldn’t have thought of himself. And it wasn’t any bother to Arya. In fact, it was more of a bother to Sansa as it would have fucked up her numbers slightly.

“Hey,” Arya said as she slipped into the small tent. It was too small to stand in, so she immediately sat down and crossed her legs, just by Gendry’s feet. Gendry was clearly halfway between sleep and wakefulness.

“Arya?” he groaned, fluttering his eyes. Arya nodded impatiently. “What are you doing here, you weirdo?”

“I want to marry you,” she said simply. Gendry shook his head.

“Let me sit up.” Arya watched impatiently as he shuffled until he was sitting in the makeshift bed. His head scraped the ‘ceiling’. Arya was glad she did not have that problem. When he was realigned in a more comfortable position to receive Arya’s news, he said, “say that again.”

Arya pursed her lips. “I want to marry you.” She shuffled forward slightly on her arse so that she was close enough to lean forward and kiss his sweet, shocked lips. “I know I said I’d think about it but I’ve thought about it and I want to marry you.”

“Were you going to wait for me to ask?” Gendry said and he sounded rather amused. Arya rolled her eyes.

“You basically asked the other night. I’m taking the lead from my sister. I came here to tell you that.”

“You came all the way here to tell me you wanted to marry me?” 

He sounded slightly incredulous and he had a right to be. Arya sighed. “Essentially, yes, but only because I have to do something else before I can marry you.” Gendry furrowed his brow. “I have to kill Cersei.”

Gendry knew her well enough not to be shocked but she did see fear in his eyes. Arya swallowed. “Arya, I won’t stop you. I’d never stop you, but-”

“I know it’s dangerous and that’s why I’m here. I wanted you to know that I want to marry you and I don’t want to risk our future but I have to do this.” Gendry nodded, his jaw setting. Arya closed her eyes and then opened them again. “Will you wait for me?” she asked.

Gendry scoffed. “No, I won’t bloody well wait for you. I’m not your pretty little lady who’s going to watch while you go off to war, just like you aren’t for me. I’m coming with you.”

“No,” Arya blurted immediately.

Gendry shook his head. “If it’s not too dangerous for you, it’s not too dangerous for me.”

“You think you need to protect me?” Arya demanded, ire rising inside her. He may not think of her as his pretty little lady but he was acting like he did.

Gendry rolled his eyes at her. “No, don’t be ridiculous, Arya. I’d like to see the man who could protect you better than you can protect yourself.” Arya found herself smiling despite herself. “I’m coming with you because I want to be at your side every day for the rest of our lives. We’re a team and that starts now, even if we haven’t declared it at a sept yet.”

Arya would rather get married in a godswood but none of that mattered now. She grinned and leaned forward to press a lingering kiss to his lips. This was what Brienne had meant by partners. She understood. He would be at her side while she took on Cersei and she would be by his side for the rest of his life.

“When do you want to go?” Gendry asked, pulling back. Arya grinned.

“It would be a great shame to waste this lovely tent I provided you with.”

Gendry rolled his eyes. “We’ll obviously be taking it with us-” he cut himself off when he saw Arya’s raised eyebrows. Shooting her a grin, he said, “and I just understood what you meant. Come here.”

XXX

“Where do you think he went?” Dany asked Jon as they lay in bed together five days after having left Winterfell. His little sister’s lover Gendry had disappeared in the night two days ago. Jon shrugged.

“Who knows? I imagine Arya has something to do with it.”

Dany chuckled and Jon smiled at her mirth. He liked making her laugh. “Do you think we should put out a searching party?”

Jon shook his head. “I doubt if he had been kidnapped they’d take his tent too.” Dany nodded and then there was a moment’s silence. Jon knew he needed to break their peace for a moment or two but he loved being content in bed with her, away from the masses, just happy in each other’s company.

However, duty always called and Davos had been going on about it for weeks now.

“Dany,” Jon sighed and she looked at him with those beautiful eyes. He nearly stopped but he’d started and he may as well plough through. “We need to discuss the succession.”

She went cold in his arms. He felt the warmth disappear from the tent and hated himself for it. “I don’t want to think of it.”

“Dany.” Jon didn’t know what to say. He knew it was a difficult subject, her being barren, but it was essentially the reason they had been able to marry at all. Dany shrugged his arms from around her and sat up, exposing her breasts and stomach. “We would be fools to go into battle without successors.”

Jon hated to think of it too. Of course, he did not want to consider the possibility that they would need a successor for many many years, but it was too real a possibility and Jon’s duty pressed him. Love could not be the death of duty here. They had an obligation to the kingdoms they served to provide them with stability.

“Are you calling me a fool?” Dany demanded. Jon just stared at her until her severe look melted away. He took her face into his hands, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb.

“I know it’s scary, but somebody must carry on our legacy if we both fall.”

Dany nodded stiffly. “I know. Who do you suggest?”

Well, wasn’t that the issue? Jon had no clue. They were the remaining Targaryens. There was nobody to come after them in bloodlines. There was some more dragon blood dotted around the Stormlands but in houses they did not know and did not trust. Jon knew who he wanted as heir but whether Dany would agree was another matter.

“Sansa-”

“Jon,” Dany cut him off with a sigh. “I understand you love your sister but what qualifies her to be queen?”

Jon snapped, “what qualifies us? Sansa is kind and strong and a good leader. She is married to a good, wise man and they will provide heirs for the kingdoms. Who else would you want? Sansa and Tyrion could rule together.”

Dany scowled. It was clear she did not like the idea, despite Jon knowing that she trusted Tyrion generally. “Your sister enjoys power.”

“So do you!” Jon protested. That made Dany pause. Jon wished he could read her mind. She was silent for too long. Jon wanted to ask what she was thinking, who she thought was better. If she could convince him that someone would be better than Sansa and Tyrion, then he would acquiesce. 

“You’re right,” Dany said with a nod. “Sansa and Tyrion, and their heirs, will be our successors.”

Jon let out a breath of relief. One mountain crossed. He reached for Dany and she fell back into his arms, though her scowl had not abated. Jon at least now knew that, should something happen to him and Dany, the kingdoms would be in the best possible hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I feel kind of funny writing Dany because I've had a few funny reviews about her in the past, especially on Changing Priorities. But I have a vision that I would not call anti-Daenerys but Dany stans likely will not like it. But I don't want to tag the whole story as "anti-Dany" because it's not?? Like agh the whole Dany love-hate thing really stresses me out in this fandom
> 
> SO, as it's my story, I'm not going to tag anything. If anyone has a way that I can tag the way I'm writing Dany without pissing off Dany stans or sending them all running from my story out of fear of reading a Dany they hate, I would be grateful. Maybe in a few chapters this will make sense. It probs does not now
> 
> ANYWAY here is chapter 12. I genuinely thought, when I was looking over the plan I'd made this morning, that this chapter was gonna be really short and not a lot would happen but erm I was wrong?
> 
> Things to look forward to next chapter: Addam Marbrand arrives and has bants and feelz with Jaime and Brienne and the battle of the Twins takes place!
> 
> Hopefully, that will be up next Wed but I'm going HOME on Friday and also next Wed is Christmas so who knows I have so much planned for my two weeks at home before coming back to Paris that idk how well my fics are going to be updated. Festive Tidings should still be fine (fingers crossed!!)
> 
> Anyway, this is long but I wanted to say thanks for the support. It means the world and I love every single review even if I don't reply to them all :) happy reading and happy one week til Christmas!!
> 
> (And Happy Star Wars Day pls give me no spoilers coz I'm waiting to watch it with my family in the UK thank you KINDLY)


	13. Chapter 13

“What are you going to do?” Sansa asked excitedly. Brienne gave her an exasperated look. “I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that, Brienne. This is exciting and I am going to stand by your side for all of it!”

Brienne smiled at the sentiment and at the sparkle in Sansa’s pretty blue eyes. “You could just get pregnant yourself, you know,” Brienne commented lightly, swatting Sansa’s hand away from her stomach as she tried to touch it yet again. It had not even begun to swell yet and already Sansa was petting her. Brienne did not know how long she would be able to put up with this. She stifled a groan as she realised that Jaime would be even worse.

Sansa gave her a withering look. “I have told you, Brienne. Tyrion and I are going to wait until things are a bit safer.” Brienne pursed her lips. “Don’t look at me like that! Our children will hardly like each other anyway, so it won’t make a difference if they’re the same age. Yours will be born with her hand reached out for a sword and mine will be born bowing.”

“Is mine to be a girl?” Brienne asked with amusement. They reached the ramparts, feeling the chill air.

“Yes,” Sansa said definitively, “and my first will be a boy to secure the North.” Brienne gave her a sad smile that Sansa returned. “Will Jaime want a boy?”

Brienne shrugged. “Most men do but Jaime is not most men.” Sansa snorted and Brienne grinned. Perhaps she was a bit excited to tell Jaime too. She looked up as she noticed the noise of an army. She glanced at Sansa who shrugged.

“The rest of the Lannister army arrive today,” she said simply. Brienne glared at her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Sansa gaped at her, stopping to survey the courtyard below where Jaime was standing, tall and proud. “I don’t know if you remember, Lady Lannister, but I was trying to speak to you this morning when you practically dragged me to the maester’s to have the baby confirmed!”

Brienne smiled a bit sheepishly. That was quite an accurate description for how Brienne had encouraged Sansa to come with her to the maester’s, fearing the idea of going on her own and wanting to wait until it was confirmed to tell Jaime. “Well, Lady Lannister,” Brienne replied, enjoying the way Sansa’s eyes raged at her official title, “I do apologise. I suppose I should wait to tell Jaime, then.” Brienne looked down at her husband a bit mournfully. She was looking forward to the way his eyes would light up upon her telling him but he was about to be reunited with his friend and his army.

As if in answer, the Winterfell gates opened. “No, you should tell him now,” Sansa hurried, grabbing Brienne’s forearm and starting to walk towards the stairs. “I’ll greet the army. I am the Lady of Winterfell.”

Brienne smiled in gratitude at Sansa. They reached the bottom of the steps as the first few Lannister troops rode in, in their gleaming armour and on beautiful horses. Brienne nearly rolled her eyes. Lannisters.

From the way that Jaime’s face lit up at seeing them, Brienne knew that one of the three must be Addam Marbrand, her husband’s childhood friend. Sansa was at Jaime’s side before Brienne, whispering something in his ear. Jaime turned curiously to Brienne and Brienne knew that Sansa had not told him the news.

As his eyes met hers, Brienne lay her hands on her stomach. Even a few metres away, Brienne could see the very second that Jaime realised what she was telling her. He turned fully from his arriving troops and in a few strides was right before her, covering her hands with his hand and stump and falling to his knees before her.

“Truly?” he asked, looking up at her as he planted a kiss on her flat stomach. Brienne flushed, knowing that the Lannister troops were looking at her. She glanced over and found Sansa and the man Brienne thought might be Addam Marbrand staring at them with amusement. Brienne returned her eyes to Jaime, whose eyes were wet with tears.

“Truly,” she returned. He pressed another kiss to her stomach and then jumped up and covered her lips with his own, cupping her neck with his hand and bringing her as close as he possibly could. Even when they pulled their lips away from each other’s a few seconds - or a few hours - later, Jaime kept their foreheads together.

“We’re having a baby,” Jaime breathed. Brienne chuckled, not caring what a spectacle they were making of themselves.

“We are,” she said, bringing his left hand down to her stomach again. Jaime grinned.

“I love you,” he said. Brienne smiled and returned the sentiment with a short kiss to his lips. After a few more seconds, Jaime grinned. “I have to speak to Addam. Come on.”

Jaime’s hand at her waist, Brienne was led over to where Addam Marbrand was speaking quietly to Sansa Stark, a smirk not dissimilar to Jaime’s almost constant one on his attractive face. “Addam,” Jaime said fondly, though he did not let go of Brienne to shake his hand or greet him in any way physically.

“Jaime,” Addam said, grinning at them both. “Who is this then?” he asked with a waggle of his eyebrows. Sansa smiled beside him.

“This is Lady Brienne Lannister,” Jaime said, squeezing Brienne’s side and looking up at her. Brienne met his eyes which still sparkled. “You might also know her as the Maid of Tarth, though I must say that that title is no longer applicable as she is not only my wife but also pregnant with my child.”

“Jaime!” Brienne admonished immediately, shoving his hand from her waist. Jaime only snickered, inciting a scowl from her. Brienne turned away from his laughter and sparkling eyes to Addam. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ser Addam. I am Jaime’s wife.”

“I wish you luck with that venture, my lady,” Addam said, causing a bark of laughter to emerge from Brienne’s throat and a squawk of protest to come from Jaime. “I grew up with Jaime. I am glad to see him so well.”

His comment was so earnest that Brienne decided to like him immediately. “Ser Addam, I would be glad to discuss your troops,” Sansa said, her best lady voice on. “What were your plans for their accommodation?”

“We would be glad to stay in our tents, Lady Stark,” Addam said with an easy smile.

“Wonderful,” Sansa said, for that had been her plan. “I can, of course, offer you yourself more superior accommodation.”

“That would be wonderful, my lady,” Addam said, nodding. His attention was then turned to a call of “Addam!” from across the courtyard. Brienne watched as Sansa’s Lady Stark mask softened at the sight of her husband approaching. Addam greeted Tyrion well, going down on one knee to hug Jaime’s brother.

When he stood again, Tyrion said, “I see you have met my wife and goodsister.”

“Your wife?” Addam repeated, staring at Sansa, mouth agape. “Well, I must say I am surprised,” he said in a splutter. Brienne and Sansa shared a look and both tried to stifle their laughter.

Sansa smiled down at her husband. “It was her idea,” Tyrion said fondly. Jaime and Brienne met each other’s eye and had to hide their smirks. Sansa and Tyrion were the very picture of a couple in love, not that either of them knew it. “Now, when do I get watch Addam go at it with my goodsister?” Tyrion asked with a waggle of his eyebrows. Brienne choked in surprise.

Jaime curled his arm around Brienne’s waist, squeezing tightly, and Brienne looked up to find Jaime glaring at his brother. Brienne poked him in the stomach. “I’m talking about sparring,” Tyrion said though his wink at Brienne made her certain that he knew exactly what his words had implied.

“She can’t,” Jaime said immediately. Brienne’s eyebrows flew up and she stood, shoving Jaime away from her.

“And why is that, Jaime Lannister?” she demanded, her arms itching for her sword at her waist, though she wasn’t sure if she wanted to spar with Addam or shove it into Jaime’s stomach. “I’m pregnant not ill, you arrogant twit.” She turned away from her husband and raised her eyebrows at Jaime’s friend, ignoring Tyrion’s sharp breath of shock at her revelation. “What about it?” Addam hesitated and looked at Jaime. “He has nothing to do with this decision.”

Addam shrugged and unsheathed his sword from his waist, ignoring the gaping look that Jaime was giving him. Brienne smirked and unsheathed Oathkeeper. They stepped away from the onlookers, a group which was growing as Sansa’s men dealt with the Lannister army’s horses. At least the Lannister soldiers would understand who they were getting as their Lannister lady.

XXX

Jaime watched Brienne fight, sat on a bench next to where the training swords were stored, his leg bouncing. Sansa kept giving him questioning looks that Jaime was ignoring. His wife had just told him she was pregnant with his child and she was now standing in front of him, fighting stance ready, not even using a training sword.

He knew why she was annoyed with him. Before they were married, he’d sworn never to hold her back from anything. And, here he was, asking her not to do something that she loved. Jaime knew he was in the wrong. He knew that Addam would not truthfully hurt her, that they were both too skilled to actually hurt the other, but, sitting here, watching her and knowing that with every step she took their baby with her, it was almost too much for Jaime to bear.

This was his second chance at life, second chance at happiness. The thought of losing that was too much, too horrible.

But Jaime also knew who his second chance was. He knew Brienne and nine months of not sparring, not fighting, would turn her to insanity. Laying his hands flat on the bench next to him, Jaime screamed at his heart to calm down, to trust his wife, to remember how good she was.

And, when she started, that was too easy.

She never smiled when she sparred. The reason she always won was because she took it seriously, pretended she had a real reason to fight and that gave her enough momentum to win. Jaime could only hope that she was not imagining his face as she parried and thrust.

She was phenomenal. His wife was phenomenal. Watching her made Jaime’s hand twitch and it made him long for his second hand. He would have loved to be as much a match for her as Addam was. He had been once.

Her body moved flawlessly. Her footwork was incredible. Every step was calculated two steps before. Every strike or parry was known to her before Addam had even considered what he was going to do. Jaime could see it.

And, by the time they were finished and sweating and Brienne declared the champion, all Jaime could think about was getting Brienne upstairs and fucking her until she screamed.

XXX

“Gonna have you against the wall,” Jaime groaned as soon as the door was barred behind them. Brienne moaned as Jaime tugged at her laces, her hand coming down to assist him. It took too long but, as soon as his finger was inside her, Brienne’s head was tipped back, crying out her pleasure.

It wasn’t enough, the orgasm he quickly gave her with his fingers. His wonderful wonderful fingers that knew the insides of her so well.

Brienne reached down to quickly undo the front of his breeches, her fingers still shaking from pleasure, clumsy with the laces. But she managed it eventually and then he was free and he was pushing her up against the wall and then fucking her.

One leg around his waist, Brienne arched her hips to fuck him back so that they slammed together passionately, with force. “Jaime, Jaime, Jaime,” Brienne chanted, wrapping her arms around his neck and lacing one hand in his hair when he took her nipple into his mouth.

They didn’t last long. Brienne didn’t expect them to. And, when they were undone with a roar each, Jaime lay his forehead against Brienne’s heart, panting and with his hand still braced against the wall. Brienne released her leg from his waist. When it reached the floor, it did not want to keep her upright though she forced it. Her whole body wanted to collapse.

“I’m sorry,” Jaime whispered against her chest. Brienne unlaced her fingers from his golden curls. He looked up at her. “I’m sorry.”

“Jaime,” Brienne sighed, pushing slightly at his chest to make him step away from her. He did so. When their bodies separated, Brienne let out a whine, eyes closed. “Jaime, I want to fight.”

“And you should,” Jaime said quietly, “but I can’t pretend not to be scared every time you do.” Brienne swallowed. “I sat there and I just had to keep reminding yourself that you’re amazing and you can fight and I mean, fuck- Brienne, you’re fantastic and I trust Addam not to accidentally hurt you because you’re only sparring and he’s good but Gods, Brienne, if it was someone else-”

Brienne stepped close to him again, her hand on his neck, her thumb brushing his jaw. She shushed him in what she hoped was a soothing manner. She did understand why he was upset, why he was worried. She reached down for his hand and pushed her shirt up with it, lying it against her flat stomach. Head pushed against his, Brienne met his eyes.

“I understand, Jaime. I was angry and I’m not going to stop sparring, not yet, not until the baby is bigger, but I understand.”

Jaime swallowed and nodded. “And the war?” he said, his voice cracking. Brienne bit her lip. She’d barely had time to consider it. Whenever she and Jaime had discussed having a baby, they had not discussed what that would mean for Brienne’s promise to accompany Jaime to war.

Brienne shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know, Jaime. I- You have an important role and I don’t want you to be distracted.” Brienne hated every word. Jaime smiled a bit tremulously at her.

“We have a few days. We can figure it out,” he said, rolling his head from side to side against her forehead. Brienne smiled without her teeth. They stayed there, eyes closed for a few more moments.

“I love you, Jaime,” Brienne whispered and Jaime smiled, bringing their lips together shortly and then pulling away again.

“I love you too.”

XXX

Jaime and Brienne rejoined Sansa, Tyrion and Addam an hour or so later, after a bath and a change of clothes. It showed how much more comfortable Brienne had become with sex that she hardly reacted to Tyrion and Addam’s comments when they entered the room. Jaime knew that it was very obvious where they had been and what they had been doing.

“Dinner will be here in about fifteen minutes,” Sansa informed them and Jaime ignored the little smirk on her lips. She had clearly been spending too much time with her husband.

“Wonderful,” Jaime said and he and Brienne took their seats on the chaise longue that had been left for them. Addam was sitting opposite on an armchair, an awful smirk on his face. “How are you finding Winterfell, Addam?”

“Very well, Jaime. Tyrion and his lovely wife have been showing me the highlights.” Jaime heard Addam’s sarcasm and knew that he hated the North as much as Jaime and Tyrion did. “I have to say that I am glad I have not married into the cold like you two.”

Tyrion snorted. “Trust me, it was my one holdback.” Sansa’s lips only twitched. Tyrion’s eyes narrowed at her. Jaime thought it might have been because Sansa had her one-true-love mask on, as Tyrion termed it, because Addam was there and Tyrion didn’t like it. For that matter, nor did Jaime. His goodsister was actually very witty and good company, when she allowed herself to be.

“And I have not married the North,” Jaime corrected. Addam’s eyebrows rose. “Brienne and I will have to rule Casterly Rock and Tarth one day.”

“One day far away,” Sansa said with her lady’s smile. Jaime lay his hand on Brienne’s stomach. Addam rolled his eyes with a tut.

“You have gone soft, Jaime,” he said. “You once told me that you would never need a woman and only fight evil for your entire life.”

Jaime laughed and rubbed his head on Brienne’s shoulder fondly. He remembered making that statement. He could not have been older than twelve. He and Addam, at Crakehall, were in the brook with a few of the other squires and Jaime had jumped up on a rock and declared that, holding out his training sword. “I married a knight so that I could fulfil that dream,” Jaime told Addam, ignoring Brienne’s swat on his shoulder. Despite the fact that she did want to be a knight, she did not like him referring to her as such, even though she was a far superior knight that most, just without the title.

“Ah, so when the war is over, are you going to travel the realms like hedge knights?” Addam asked, grinning. Tyrion snorted. Jaime looked up at Brienne wistfully. He found her smiling at the idea. Jaime rubbed her stomach and she swatted him away again.

“We wish,” Jaime replied for them both, turning back to Addam. “Unfortunately we have duties to Tarth and Casterly Rock.”

“Will you live separately then?”

Jaime snorted. “No.”

Sansa looked at them curiously. “What will you do, then? You can hardly travel between the two.”

Jaime had not fully considered it truthfully, but his ever-practical wife clearly had. “My father will hopefully live until this one is old enough to look after Tarth on her own,” she said, rubbing her stomach.

“Her?” Jaime questioned, the idea of a little girl with Brienne’s hair and Brienne’s eyes and a tiny version of Oathkeeper in her hand settling in Jaime’s mind quite pleasantly. Brienne flushed at Jaime’s teasing grin. “Are we having a girl, wench?”

“I hope so,” Sansa declared, turning the room’s attention from Brienne. “You can send her to Winterfell to learn how to be a lady.”

Brienne barked out a laugh. Jaime watched Addam’s features turn to surprise at Sansa’s joke. “Or we could send her to squire under Arya,” Brienne teased. Sansa scowled.

“I will steal her away and teach her to sew and how to braid hair.” Brienne only laughed. Jaime could not imagine that, even if they had seven girls, any of them would be the little ladies that Sansa dreamed of.

“I am sorry, Sansa, but you and my brother will have to provide your own Lannister ladies to make up for our knights,” Jaime said, winking at his brother whose grin fell. Sansa only turned to Tyrion with a smile and a sparkle in her blue eyes. While they had been bathing earlier, Brienne had told Jaime of Sansa’s excitement about the prospect of having a child. Jaime knew that a child being born a dwarf was his brother’s greatest fear.

“Jaime says you have children, Addam,” Brienne said, distracting the room from Tyrion’s faltering grin. Jaime lay his head on her shoulder and her hand almost automatically went to play with his hair, just the way Jaime liked it.

Addam nodded. “My wife is at Ashemark with them. Three girls and a boy, named for Jaime.”

Jaime grinned at the reminder and inclined his head at Addam. Perhaps they would return the favour. Jaime wouldn’t mind his son being called Addam. Jaime found Brienne looking at him in surprise. “What, wench, you don’t believe I am worthy?” Jaime asked, teasing, though Brienne looked at him as though she thought he was being self-deprecating. Which he was not.

“I believe you are very worthy,” she said, stroking the hair back from his face. Jaime smiled and then looked to their friends, who were staring at them with nothing short of disgust. Jaime snorted and pressed a kiss to Brienne’s jaw before sitting up properly.

“Where is this dinner, Sansa?” he demanded and his goodsister gave him an exasperated sigh, as though he made her life so very difficult.

XXX

Dinner was completed, their plates cleared away though they stayed at the table in anticipation of dessert. “When will Arya be back?” Jaime asked Sansa, whose stomach stirred with unease at Jaime’s question. She had not shared with Tyrion, Brienne or Jaime what Sansa had gone south to do.

Sansa shrugged. “She wanted to be beside her smith. She went to tell him that she would marry him and then to help with the war. It was too difficult for her being here while the action goes on down south and, anyway, I have Brienne to protect me.”

Sansa watched Jaime’s face flinch slightly but she looked at Brienne who inclined her head once. She imagined that, as he had earlier, Jaime objected to Brienne being in any sort of combat situation while she was pregnant. Sansa quite agreed, which was why she was going to find someone else to do the job alongside Brienne, not because she wasn’t capable, but because Sansa cared too much for her and her baby.

“When will we move out, Jai?” Addam asked. Sansa almost snorted out loud at the nickname. She saw Brienne make a funny face too but Jaime’s face didn’t change.

“Two days. I want to get all the men together and go over the attack plan with you.” Addam nodded.

Tyrion cleared his throat, drawing the room’s amused attention. “Enough of war and politics now, if you please. Let’s discuss something else.”

Sansa seized the opportunity. “Yes, what are you going to call your baby, Jaime and Brienne?”

Brienne snorted. “Sansa, I found out I was pregnant five hours ago. I don’t have any ideas.”

Sansa scoffed. “You told me that you’ve been trying to get pregnant since the battle. You must have some ideas.” Brienne flushed bright red and even Jaime blushed slightly. “If it’s a girl, you should call her Sansa.”

Brienne snorted, shooting Sansa’s hopes. Jaime turned to Brienne and brushed his fingers over her hand, making Sansa purse her lips and look at Tyrion. She wondered whether they would ever be so openly affectionate. Of course, the difference was that Jaime and Brienne were in love and Sansa and Tyrion were essentially just friends who fucked.

“I always wanted a girl called Joanna,” Jaime said quietly. Sansa heard Tyrion’s sharp inhalation of breath and remembered that their mother had been called Joanna and she was supposedly extraordinarily kind and beautiful. Brienne smiled at Jaime.

“Then that’s what we will call her,” Brienne said. From Brienne’s voice, Sansa was sure that she was set on the idea of their baby being a girl. “I always wanted to name a boy for my brother,” Brienne said, slightly awkwardly. Sansa was rather surprised that Brienne had a brother and she nearly said something - before remembering that Brienne was the only heir to her island and, therefore, her brother must have died. Sansa swallowed the picture of Rickon laughing that sprung up in her head, the goodbye that Robb had given her.

“I think Galladon Lannister is a very nice name. Very knightly,” Jaime said and Sansa smiled, glad that Brienne had shared her brother’s death with at least one person. Galladon was a nice name.

“We can call him Gal,” Sansa added. Brienne practically beamed. “And he can come to Winterfell and Tyrion can teach him to be scholarly and clever and he will be a maester.”

Jaime and Brienne both levelled her with a glare that had her practically cackling. She saw Addam give her a look and figured that he must be surprised at her, given that she had been quite ladylike and masked for most of the day and before dinner. But she didn’t like being like that when she was with her friends and Addam was clearly so fond of Jaime that Sansa decided to accept him, given that a begrudging fondness for Jaime had grown in her over the past month.

“All our children are going to be knights, Sansa Stark,” Jaime said and Sansa grinned, looking at her husband whose eyes were sparkling.

“Not if Tyrion and I have anything to do with it. There are entirely too many knights and warriors in our family. Tyrion and I need some more on our side.” Sansa hoped that she and Tyrion would provide some of them too. Perhaps they would allow Jaime and Brienne to steal some as knights. Sansa was happy to wait until Cersei was overthrown to have a child but she did want to have one soon after that, though Tyrion rarely mentioned the prospect.

“Are your children knightly or scholarly, Addam?” Brienne asked and Sansa turned her eyes onto Jaime’s friend who was watching them with amusement.

Addam snorted. “Ironically, Jaime is far more scholarly than I would have anticipated with his name.” Jaime cried out his disapproval though Brienne practically roared with laughter, a testament to the three goblets of ale she had drunk, Sansa was sure. “My third daughter is eight and she is already asking me for a sword. Perhaps I will send her to be a squire with you, Brienne.”

Brienne smiled and nodded eagerly. Sansa knew that Brienne was eager for more girls to be allowed to do as they wished. Sansa quite agreed. “She couldn’t learn from anyone better,” Sansa said proudly, ignoring Brienne’s blush and shake of her head. “You should see her current squire, Podrick. Surely he will be knighted soon and it will be entirely down to Brienne.”

“Yes, he learned far more with her than he did with me,” Tyrion said, giving his goodsister an appraising look. Sansa beamed and then the door opened. It was the maids, delivering dessert. As soon as they were in, Sansa could smell what they were having, though she could not see it yet and she had not been the one to order it. Her eyes widened and her stomach filled with joy at the prospect of lemon cakes.

Turning to her husband at her side, Sansa gave him the brightest smile she possibly could. “Did you do this?” she demanded happily as the lemon cake was laid in front of her. Tyrion smiled.

“Of course, my dear.” Sansa squeaked with joy and pressed a kiss to his cheek before spinning back to her cake and digging in, ignoring the knowing looks she was receiving from Brienne and Jaime. “Lemon cakes were the only thing that made her smile when we were first married,” Tyrion said to Addam. Sansa pursed her lips, a mouthful of lemon cake, and shot Tyrion an unhappy look. “And now they’re an easy way to guarantee sex.”

Tyrion did receive a slap to the arm for that but he only snickered. Sansa blushed at the laughter of her friends, especially Addam’s. “Talking about sex is an easy way to guarantee none,” she replied primly. Tyrion only rolled his eyes at her empty threat.

XXX

Jaime, Brienne and Addam retired to Jaime and Brienne’s chambers at Jaime’s invitation. Brienne was more than happy to spend more time with him. She was not as tired as she had been on previous days and it was a pleasure to watch Jaime so happy with someone else - and even more of a pleasure to hear about Jaime as a child.

Brienne had stopped drinking for the night but she found a carafe of wine in their storage unit for Jaime and Addam to share.

“Are you not drinking, love?” Jaime asked, rubbing her thigh to make her move up on the chaise longue. Addam sat opposite them on the armchair, a goblet of wine already in his hand.

Brienne shook her head. “I don’t want to make myself feel worse in the morning.”

Jaime nodded and then turned to Addam conspiratorially. “It’s because she’s got morning sickness.” Addam snorted and Brienne met his eyes, shaking her head. Addam’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

“How did you two meet?” Addam asked Brienne whose fingers were busy playing with the ends of Jaime’s hair against the nape of his neck. Brienne smiled, nodding at Jaime to explain.

Jaime’s explanation was always more fun to listen to than her telling of it. He over exaggerated at all the right points and didn’t mention the parts that Brienne would not have wanted him to, like the baths at Harrenhal, which, admittedly, was a huge turning point in their relationship. Even so, it was quite rightly the most private part of their story.

When Jaime finished with his romantic arrival at Winterfell, Brienne turned a happy smile to him, kissing his temple. “And then we were married a week later,” Jaime finished.

“And now she’s having your baby,” Addam added. Brienne inclined her head. “I am very happy for you, Jai. You deserve this.” The sincerity in his voice made tears come to Brienne’s eyes, something that, unfortunately, Jaime saw.

“Are you crying?” he demanded, amused.

“No,” Brienne lied, turning her face away and pressing her fingers to her eyes.

“You so are,” Jaime said, grinning like a cat. “Why are you crying?”

Brienne poked him hard in the stomach. “Because I’m pregnant, you dick.”

Jaime slung his arm around her shoulders clumsily and pulled her close, pressing a smacking kiss to her cheek. “You’re cute, wench,” he said and then Brienne was sure that he was too deep in his cups. She shoved him off her with a laugh, looking at Addam and meeting his eyes once again, hoping to see him commiserating her in Jaime’s stupidity. Instead, she found him staring at them wistfully.

Soon later, Jaime passed out on the bed, leaving Brienne to tuck him in like a nursemaid. He snored loudly when he was drunk. “Sorry about that,” Brienne said awkwardly, nodding at Jaime and tucking her hair behind her ear. She picked up Jaime’s goblet and placed it on the table where their breakfast was laid in the morning, so that the maids would take it to be washed.

“Brienne,” Addam started and his voice was hesitant so Brienne turned to look at him inquisitively. “I just wanted to thank you.” Brienne furrowed her eyebrows and was about to tell him not to be silly when he said, “no, I mean it. Thank you.”

“What for?” she asked, sitting back down opposite it.

“I- I hated Cersei so much,” Addam said quietly, glancing at a snoring Jaime. Brienne sucked breath in between her teeth. “Gods, I hated her. I watched my best friend turn into this warped monster, worse and worse every time he went home to see her. I knew what was going on, probably understood it before even he did, and I hated every minute of it.”

Brienne listened, though she didn’t want to. She hated thinking of what Cersei had done to Jaime, though she knew that Jaime was not at all faultless. “When we were fifteen, just before he was knighted, I confronted him about it, told him how wrong it was, what she was doing to him. We didn’t speak for nearly two years. I went to King’s Landing when I heard what was going on. I snuck in because I wanted to see him. He was my best friend and I wanted to protect him.”

Addam had tears in his throat. Brienne’s eyes were blurring with the knowledge of what would come next. “I found him in the godswood one day and, when he saw me, he started to cry and he told me everything that the Mad King was doing.” Addam had tears on his cheeks now. “And then he killed him and I thought he’d done this amazing thing. I thought he’d see what honour was and I didn’t see him for a few years. I visited King’s Landing for Joffrey’s christening.”

“And you saw whose he was,” Brienne finished for him. Addam nodded.

“And I realised that, despite what he had done, he was still under her thumb, still blindly obsessed with her. I confronted him again and he sent me away, telling me that I didn’t know what I was talking about and what I was saying was treason. Even so, when my son came along, I remembered the boy who had wanted to be a knight and I remembered the boy that had sobbed about the queen’s rape and the Starks’ murder and named my son for him, with the hope that, one day, Jaime would remmeber who he was.

“When he was captured, I was halfway to Riverrun when his father talked me down. And then I heard that his hand was cut off. I felt as though I was grieving for him.” Brienne swallowed, remembering Jaime’s scream. “I wrote him a letter, promising my unwavering loyalty. He never replied. The next time I heard from him was just over a month ago, when he told me he was getting married and fighting against Cersei and he needed me and my army. I left the same day.”

Brienne smiled and watched Addam wipe at his eyes. “I hated them for what they did to him. Cersei and his father. So, thank you. I don’t know what changed in him but you brought him back, that boy who wanted to be a knight.” Addam took her hand and squeezed it, bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. “You’re a saint, Brienne.”

Brienne shook her head. “I’m not sure about that.”

Addam nodded at Jaime who was still snoring. “He certainly thinks so.” With a laugh, Brienne shook her head again. “He looks at you like you hung the moon in the sky.”

Swallowing roughly, Brienne smiled. “Thank you for being his friend,” she said honestly. Addam grinned and winked at her, squeezing her hand again.

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would you believe that this nearly 6000-word chapter is only half as long as I originally intended? I nearly split it again but I didn't know where to do that so that it would still make sense
> 
> so, next chapter will have some Jonerys stuff and I'm not going to lie, considering my relatively negative interactions with Dany-stans recently, I imagine you will not like what's coming up, though I do think it's true to the TV show. Anyway, I'll tag it if and when it's necessary, so keep with me and feel free to stop reading if you don't like the characterisation - I will fully understand as I've just had to stop reading a Dramione fic with very good plot and very good Dramione because I could not stand the way they were writing Harry and I didn't think it was true to the Harry who lives in my head!!
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Chapter 14 should be along relatively shortly


	14. Chapter 14

Jaime rolled up the map awkwardly, finding yet another thing he could not do successfully with only one hand. Addam gave him an amused look and helped him. Jaime was glad someone found it funny and graced his friend with a scowl. “I spoke to Brienne last night,” Addam said.

Jaime shot him a confused look. “I know you did. I was there.”

Addam shook his head. “After you passed out. You’ve become a real light-weight, by the way,” his friend added unhelpfully, not alleviating Jaime’s scowl. He did not need the reminder that somehow his little brother, despite his inferior height, could hold his alcohol far better than Jaime. Brienne had told him the second he had woken up this morning, his head banging and the sun making his eyes want to scream. Thankfully, his wife’s chest had been there to shelter him.

“What did you speak to Brienne about then?” Jaime asked, placing the rolled map on top of the pile of paperwork and waiting for an instant to check it would not fall.

“Cersei,” Addam said and Jaime swallowed, leaving his eyes on the pile of papers. He blinked and then turned to his friend, shaking his head.

“Brienne already knows everything. It’s okay.”

And it was. Jaime was sure that Addam needed someone to talk to about what he had known was going on. He’d been a very good friend by keeping it all to himself. He was a far better friend than Jaime deserved.

“She seems wonderful,” Addam said honestly and Jaime nodded, his face completely serious.

“Sometimes I think that I’m dreaming and she doesn’t really exist.”

Addam snorted. “Well, don’t worry about that. She exists and she adores you.” Jaime grinned. “I don’t know what you did to deserve such an incredible woman.”

Jaime shrugged. “Must have done something to please the Gods. Anyhow, I won’t complain. A wife who I can fight with and fuck? What more could I ask for?” Addam’s chuckle made Jaime sure he agreed. “How is your wife, by the way?”

Addam shook his head. “I’m not sure. You have been blessed by finding a woman who loves you, Jaime, and who you love. We’re not all so lucky.”

Jaime swallowed at Addam’s blunt honesty. “I thought you were fond of Myna.” Addam shrugged. “What’s happened?”

“I just find that I prefer being away to being there. I sit in the camps and all the other men are talking of returning home to their wives and all I can think is that I want it to go on for longer, stay away for longer. I love my children. I don’t love her.”

Jaime had never considered what it must be to live with love. He’d always had Cersei. Even when he thought he was going to have to marry some awful lady, like Lysa Arryn, he’d known that he would always love Cersei. “I’m sorry, Addam.” Addam shook his head and scooped up the letter they had written to send to the Essosi troops who were approaching the twins.

“It’s alright. Just, seeing you and Brienne, and Tyrion and Lady Sansa, reminded me that I’ll never have that.” Jaime thought that was quite a defeatist attitude but, if love was out there for Addam, it would find him where he least expected it, like it had for Jaime.

Jaime chuckled. “Sansa and Tyrion would not admit to being in love,” he confessed quietly to Addam, following him out of the meeting room they had taken over to discuss battle plans. Brienne had been with them for a while, as well as Sansa and Tyrion, but they’d all claimed various excuses to get away. And, truthfully, Jaime and Addam were best-qualified to plan battle strategy. Even Brienne was not as much help as Jaime had expected, though he should have considered that skill with the sword does not account for years of practice as a commander.

Addam’s eyes flew up. “I thought that they had chosen the marriage. I did not realise it was arranged.”

Shaking his head, Jaime said, “It wasn’t. Well, I suppose Sansa arranged it. She had a terrible second marriage and wanted to be with someone who made her happy and made her feel safe. She proposed to Tyrion. They absolutely adore one another but he doesn’t think she would ever love him because he’s the way he is and she doesn’t think he will ever love her more than he wants to serve Daenerys.”

Addam’s eyes widened. They turned the corner, heading towards the great hall where noises of armies celebrating one last night before they left for battle. “Do you think they’ll ever figure it out?”

Jaime shrugged. “I’m hoping that while they’re here on their own they’ll have to. But, then again, they’re both good at hiding what they feel, so who knows?” Addam was clearly surprised and Jaime imagined that he was not the only one who would be shocked by the true state of Sansa and Tyrion’s marriage. Though they were not necessarily affectionate in public, anyone could see how much they loved each other in their daily interactions.

Brienne found them outside the dining hall. Her skin looked pale. Jaime greeted her with a kiss and cupped her face to say, “you don’t look well, sweetling.”

She shoved him off her immediately. “You know I was sick this morning, Jaime.”

Jaime swallowed, feeling his skin going white at what seemed to be quite genuine anger. When was the last time she had truly been angry with him? Addam only chuckled and slapped Jaime on the back, jolting him away from Brienne’s suddenly flushed face.

“I’ll see you later, Jaime,” Addam said, before leaning in to whisper, “she’s pregnant, you moron. She’s tired and the baby’s messing her brain around. Do yourself a favour and think before you speak.”

And then he pulled away and walked into the hall with a wink. Jaime watched him approach the front bench and take his seat next to Tyrion. “Brienne,” Jaime said softly, reaching for her hand which she thankfully let him take. “I’m sorry. Can I do anything?”

She smiled at him. “Yes, please, can we go back to our room?” Jaime was bloody ravenous and he could see the amazing feast that Sansa had laid out in the dining hall but he also loved his wife and, anyway, they could order food if they needed it. Perhaps he would order something special for his wife.

“Of course,” Jaime said, squeezing her hand. Sometimes it was easy to forget that, though his wife was so strong and fantastic, she was still a human being. And a woman living with a child growing inside her. “Come on.”

XXX

“Dany, the battle will be just as much of a success in a week as it would be today,” Jon said, stroking his wife’s arm. She nodded and wiped the tears that had come when they reached their tent, after the meeting that had confirmed what they had feared: the illness that had taken the camp would mean a delay in taking the Twins.

There was still little doubt that they would win. They were the far superior force, with various styles of fighting and a larger army. The Golden Company would be strong but not strong enough to take them, provided that the men recovered from this illness.

“I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated,” Dany said, sitting down at the mirror that she always carried from camp to camp. She moved her hand to the back of her plait, starting to fiddle it out of her hair. Jon approached, and kissed the top of her head. She looked up to smile at him and Jon remembered exactly why he loved her.

“I’ll go and make one of Missandei’s teas so you can sleep,” he offered. She smiled, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

“Hmm, yes please,” she said and then a teasing smile grew on her face. “Have Missandei do it, will you? You’re no good.”

Jon chuckled and nodded, ducking his head out of the camp. The illness would delay them but it would not take any of them down.

XXX

Brienne was well-loved by the Lannister troops quite quickly, Jaime was surprised to see. He didn’t know if it was because she could beat any one of them in a battle - he doubted that was the case - or if it was because she was the reason they were not fighting for a mad queen any longer. Jaime thought it was highly likely that it was the latter, though he knew that the former had caused a grudging respect from each and every one of his commanders. The fact that she was carrying the Lannister heir was also likely to help.

She had yet to show, though, and it was not necessarily common knowledge. The rumours went around the camp, likely originating with the men who had seen Jaime fall to his knees before Brienne and kiss her stomach. Jaime did not mind. It meant that every one of the commanders was careful with her when sparring and protective over her safety when not. Brienne hated it. They offered her their chairs, they offered to carry things for her and they almost constantly asked how they were feeling.

It made Jaime positively gleeful to see them treating her so. His favourite part, however, was the friendship that was burgeoning between Brienne and Addam. Jaime was sure that it had begun when Addam had spoken to her about Cersei - not that Jaime knew exactly what had occurred in the course of that conversation. Whatever it was, Jaime enjoyed Brienne and Addam’s friendship. It meant that, most evenings, they supped together, often with another military commander or two, to make them feel valued and to gain their insight on the battle plans. Bronn also often joined them.

Jaime had not seen much of his friend while they’d been at Winterfell. When he’d commented on it, Bronn had told him in no uncertain terms that it was because he was more focussed on his wife’s cunt than Bronn’s friendship, but, upon speaking to Tyrion, Jaime had discovered that Bronn had a fledgling friendship with one of the Northern girls and a lady to boot. Her name was Alys Karstark and she supposedly loved Jon Snow. Bronn had offered to help her get over that infatuation. Jaime had not told Brienne for fear that she would tell Sansa Stark. The last thing he needed was Bronn blaming him for losing him a castle a second time. He may be a Lannister but that would have been too many debts to pay.

Jaime sipped at the cup that his new squire had brought him. It was a tea of some sort that the boy had learned to make in the kitchens of Winterfell, where Jaime had found him and recruited him. He’d been rather jealous of Brienne having Podrick to boss around and so had found his own, who was far superior to Podrick, even if he was a Northerner.

Finishing his cup, Jaime stood at the sight of his wife approaching, chatting merrily with Addam. He kissed her in greeting, leading to wolf-whistles from the surrounding soldiers. Despite their respect for their lady, the Lannister soldiers did have a tendency to discuss the activities that occurred in their lieges’ tent. Brienne hated it but Jaime just found it rather amusing and it was better than them insulting Brienne.

Brienne sat beside him. Jaime had to control himself not to lie his hand across her flat stomach. Not only did she hate him pawing at her like that, it would be proper proof to his camp that she was pregnant. And he really did not need the news getting back to Cersei. While Jaime trusted most of his commanders, he did not know the majority of his soldiers and anyone of them - or anyone who simply slipped into the camp - could plant poison in Brienne’s food or drink, straight from Cersei’s personal stores.

The thought made Jaime scan their surroundings, looking at every face and every banner. He considered making someone their taster so that they would die and not Brienne. That would be far preferable to Jaime, though he knew that Brienne would never agree. “Are you okay?” Brienne murmured, very close to his ear. Jaime smiled at the shiver that ran down his spine.

“Yes, sweetling,” he replied, enjoying the way her face wrinkled at the nickname. Jaime enjoyed lavishing her with nicknames to annoy her, though his favourite was - and always would be - wench. “Just thinking. Did you beat Addam into the ground again?”

Brienne smirked. Fighting was one of few things that could put that look on her face. Fucking was another. That look made Jaime’s breeches tighten in anticipation and he gave Brienne an intense look. When she flushed, Jaime knew that she understood him well. “When is dinner?” she whispered.

Jaime smirked, looking away from her at the commanders who were watching them closely. “Whenever we want it.” Brienne bit her lip and Jaime grinned. He could have thought more deeply into the fact that sparring with his commanders made her horny, or he could just enjoy the fact that his wife wanted to fuck him in the middle of the afternoon.

With a nod and a wink at Addam, Jaime led Brienne to their tent, a respectable distance away from where his commanders were sharing a goblet of ale and a brief rest. They were followed by a wolf-whistle that made Jaime worry that Brienne would want to stop. She did not and Jaime only grinned as they disappeared inside. He was the luckiest man in the world, to have a wife in the camp. All those wolf-whistling fuckers only had a whore or their hand. With those three options, Jaime would choose ‘wife’ every time.

XXX

Jon stared at the skies, waiting for Dany to swoop back down on Drogon. It had been a week since they had paused to allow the men to recover from the sweating illness. They had lost a few hundred men but had managed to help most of them recover, but they needed a few days more - maybe up to a week - before they could continue onto the Twins to confidently win their first battle. The first battle was the most important. Jon’s father had taught him that - his uncle. It could make or break the army’s resolve. And, without resolve, a battle campaign was nothing.

Dany didn’t cope very well with waiting around. Jon understood why. She’d spent a lot of time waiting in Essos to be able to come and take her throne back. To wait even longer now, especially after having come to save the North when she didn’t need to, was another blow in their progress.

The army would have to get moving quickly, though. They had already eaten through their reserves and were hunting and scavenging to keep going. Every able-bodied man hunted by day, not only feeding the camp but also staying away from the sick.

Jon’s thoughts were distracted from thoughts of war by the sight of Dany on Drogon. He wished he could see her face. When she came close, he knew that he would see her smile, her pure joy at flying with her child. The Mother of Dragons, his wife. Rhaegal swooped down soon after Drogon. 

He watched Dany dip and dive. Watching her was like art before his eyes. It was as though she and Drogon were racing against Rhaegal, darting through the skies like two streaks of colour lighting up the skies.

Jon’s smile only began to falter when he realised one streak was far wider than the other, and only growing wider. Rhaegal was coming closer while Drogon remained in the skies. Furrowing his brow, he strode over, closer to where he thought Rhaegal was and then thought better of it as the dragon approached at faster and faster speeds.

“Clear the area!” he bellowed to the soldiers, pointing to the sky. They were slow, too slow, and there were sick men in tents that would not move in the seconds they had. Jon stretched his palms, lost for a solution. “Quickly!”

Soldiers were moving but not fast enough - never fast enough. Rhaegal was close. Though he was far enough away, Jon stepped back further. He could see Rhaegal’s scales, the way the gold glinted off the red. “Move!” Jon screamed as more soldiers stumbled from tents, moved from the centre, realised what was happening where they hadn’t before. One soldier, a man Jon knew called Abelar, a good man but sick, stepped out from his tent. Jon watched his eyes widen, his mouth open and then his whole body disappear as a huge dragon crashed on top of him, an immense metal arrow poking from his neck.

If anyone were to ask him later, Jon would not remember what he did in those seconds except shout. He could not remember the words he said, the orders he gave, the actions he took. In fact, the moments between Rhaegal falling and Dany returning to the ground may as well have not existed. All he remembered was the heart-aching agony of knowing that his wife had lost her child.

XXX

There were no words that Jon could use, no comfort that he could bring her. That first night, she had sat with Rhaegal and sobbed. The Essosi soldiers had shared her grief in the whole, though the Unsullied did not show it and the Dothraki had odd rituals for it. They had respect for their Queen, their Khaleesi, and they believed that she was the Mother of Dragons, not simply the Wielder of Dragons.

The Northerners were less respectful. The Northerners remembered the men crushed beneath the dragon. For their sake, they were willing to march on the awful sellswords who had brought it down over an army camp. They were willing to take up arms and take revenge for the 231 men killed. For Dany’s sake, they were willing to do less.

It wasn’t Dany’s fault. She did not understand the North. Even people who had grown up as close as the Eyrie did not understand the North. And Jon had asked her to come anyway and she had come and she had saved them but the Northerners did not see that. The Northerners saw that Sansa had fed them when there was no food and they saw that Arya had stuck the knife into the heart of the Night King.

Dany they saw as a tyrant, Aegon the Conqueror reborn, coming to forcing the North to sink to its knees again.

Jon knew that the North even preferred Sansa to him now, though they had not once. Bending the knee to Dany had been necessary - his sisters knew that too, though Sansa did not like it. But, in doing so, in saving Westeros with Dany’s troops, Jon had lost the respect of the Northerners who saw him as weak and futile for needing the help of another - especially when they were a woman and practically an Essosi to boot. And when he was sharing her bed. He knew that he looked weak in front of the Northerners, in front of the whole of Westeros.

Jon had spent his whole life not caring what others thought of him. It was no trouble to continue that now. Sansa could have the North. She and Tyrion would be far better caretakers than Jon, especially now that he had married Dany and the Throne that came with her.

Dany, though, did care what people thought of her. And, when she was grieving her child and frustrated because she could not make progress in her life’s work, the negative attitudes from the people she had put her entire life on hold to save turned that grief and desolation into anger.

When she had mounted her dragon, Jon had not been surprised. He understood that she needed to be with Drogon. When she had actually flown, he had been a little surprised, given the way that Rhaegal had died. And, when she had not returned five days later, Jon had not known what to do except to assemble their recovered troops and march on the Twins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this last scene was supposed to go slightly differently but the characters kind of became more real in my head as I wrote it so I diverted from the plan
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	15. Chapter 15

Dany found them after days of marching. The battle at the Twins had been a huge success, even without the force of the dragons that they had known would give them victory. The men were buoyed by the success, though the absence of Dany had meant that the victory was not due to her, thereby not encouraging a love from the Northerners for anyone but Jon.

While Dany had been gone, fights had broken out between the Northerners and the Dothraki. Tensions had grown every time the Northerners placed the victory at Jon’s feet and not Dany’s. And Jon knew that the Dothraki were right: the victory was Dany’s. Without her troops, they would never have won. In fact, they would not be there at all because they all would have died at Winterfell.

But that was too much for the pride of the Northerners. They saw this as their victory, a second chance after the Red Wedding, after Robb had tried once before. And Jon understood that too. The Northerners had been hurt more by the governance in King’s Landing than the Unsullied or the Dothraki. The Northerners had lost most of their lords - and their king - in one night, after a war that had also cost them the Lord of Winterfell and one of his sons’ ability to walk.

Even so, Jon was not allowing the fighting to go on. He had strict punishments for any infighting. When Dany’s dragon reappeared in the sky, Jon was hanging two of the Northerners and a Dothraki for that crime - the two had tried to gang up on one Dothraki, as the Dothraki was taller and stronger and would need two men to take him out. 

When she landed, coming off the dragon in a stately manner, despite the fact that she was wearing the same clothes she had been wearing when she left and her hair was not in its usual pristine condition, she greeted Jon with a smile and her people with a speech in Dothraki and then High Valyrian that Jon did not understand but her people cheered her for.

She made the speech in the Common Tongue last and Jon stood proudly by her side through it all, as she was truthful with her people, explaining her grief and fear for her remaining child. She was a good queen and Jon hated every person who could not see that. She was good and true and she cared for every person.

When she finished, the Northerners did cheer, more of a deep roar, ready for battle, than a cheer of joy and positivity at her return that the Dothraki and Unsullied gave her, but Jon was pleased by the improvement. In a few weeks, they would have won the war and the Northerners would return to the North and support Dany’s rule because of her help in battle, but they did not need to love her as the others did because the North lived in a world unlike the South, with very few visits from the ruler and very little interference, which would likely suit Sansa as well.

Dany strode into their tent and, ducking, Jon followed her. She smiled at him, regret in her eyes that warmed Jon’s heart. “I missed you,” she said, closing the gap between them with a short kiss. Jon smiled.

“I missed you too. How are you?” he asked. Though he wished she had never left, if leaving helped her, he would encourage her to go again in the future. If time away healed her, then she had made the right choice.

“Sad,” she said honestly, “but better. How was the battle?”

Jon told her every detail, explained the plan of action and the execution. And, when he was done with that, told her about the infighting and the plan for King’s Landing. She agreed simply and then suggested they go to bed, the moon lighting the sky already. Jon was all too happy to agree, all too happy to be reunited with his wife and his queen.

XXX

The Hound was in the inn that they were staying in. Arya had never been one to indulge in drinking. While she was in Braavos, she had learned the importance of sharp reflexes, had seen the dangers of alcohol in battle. She had never particularly enjoyed the taste of either wine or ale, so it was no hardship to sit beneath the stars with Gendry the night before battle, instead of drinking her sorrows away with the Hound.

She had few sorrows to wish away, anyhow. Her list was almost complete, so she would have no regrets once Cersei was dead. Her sister was happy and married safely in the kingdom that she loved and her brother was married to a woman who he loved. Bran was as happy as he could be and now even she was going to be married, once her list was finished.

Any sorrow she had once had was gone, replaced with a twinge when she thought about her childhood. But, now, having spent time with her family that remained, she could see the happy times that they had lived together in Winterfell, could recall their arguments and joys with nostalgia instead of bitter regret. She missed her parents and lamented the early death of her brother, so young, but she could move past that now. She would have no more lists, no more death at her hands.

She would have travel and joy and a partnership with a man whom she could be proud of. And she was proud of Gendry. He was smart; he had grown from his humble beginnings. Many would have become bitter at learning they were a king’s bastard yet had been denied food for most of their life, but Gendry had grown from it, had taken the skills he had learned and offered them to where he thought they were most needed, at Winterfell, where he had turned the course of a battle with his weapons.

Though Jaime Lannister was lauded as the man to have changed the events of the battle, along with Arya herself, Arya believed that Gendry was just as worthy of praise, just as influential in terms of their success. 

“Gendry,” Arya said sharply, jolting him out of a star-gazing stupor. He had teased her about the romance of watching the stars together, which Arya had not considered. She simply enjoyed being in open air. But if he wanted to see it as romance, he could do so. Gendry raised his eyebrows for her to speak. “If I die-”

“-Arya, no-”

She ignored him. “- I want you to find somebody else. I don’t want you to wallow or swear revenge, like your father did. I want you to find somebody else and travel the world with them and be happy.”

Gendry only rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to die.”

Arya scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t know that.”

“I have a deal with the Seven, and with your silly old gods, that you are not allowed to die before you become my wife and as that is not going to happen until you kill Cersei, we’ve not a problem, have we?”

Arya couldn’t deny him a smile at that absurd sentiment. She appreciated his faith in her and even appreciated his prayers, but it did seem rather like tempting fate. “And, if I die the moment we are wed?” Arya asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

Gendry shrugged. “I’ll be a rich man for all my days as your widower.”

Arya shoved him and he fell onto his back, laughing uproariously. Arya grinned and leaned down to peck him on the lips. A more serious man would have hated her for even bringing up such an idea. The man she had chosen joked of her death with an ease that showed his utter trust in her ability. And she loved him for it.

Gendry propped himself up on his elbows again and surveyed her. “If I die,” he started and Arya did not interrupt him. Unlike Gendry, she had no deals with the gods to protect his life. She had Needle and, if Needle could not do the job, then no gods could. “I want you to refuse to marry anybody, unless you find someone who is willing to let you be yourself. If Jon, or Sansa, ask you to marry someone, you say no unless they are willing to let you be you, even if the whole of Westeros is at stake.”

Arya smiled and nodded and he pursed his lips, asking for a kiss that Arya provided. “I promise.”

“Good, because, if I have to watch you get fucked by a man who doesn’t love you, I’ll come back to life just to kill him.”

Arya laughed. “Maybe it would be worth it then.” Gendry grinned at her and kissed her again, lazily as though they had all the time in the world, as though they weren’t waiting until just before dawn to sneak into the most dangerous city in Westeros.

XXX

Dany’s hands shook as she watched her men march into battle. Though she would be joining them, she would be in the skies, far from where they would be fighting - and dying. The thought made her stomach clench. She closed her eyes for the moment, concentrated on her breathing rather than the attack.

Drogon took her further and further into the air. When she opened her eyes, her troops were like ants, too far away to even make out Jon among them. Dany wished that Jon were in the skies with her as he had been during the Battle of Winterfell. Alone, she felt nervous and as though she was going to make a mistake. Jon steadied her. Since she had known him, his presence had been steady, reassuring. Far away at this crucial moment of her life, Dany wanted him more than ever.

She watched the horde of ants below stop and breathed in. She knew what to do now, knew that the Golden Company, that glint of sunlight just inside the city walls, would see the army, would expect a dual attack, from the skies and from the battering ram that they had brought in case there was nobody to open the gates once the Golden Company was dead.

Drogon swooped at Dany’s command. Her army grew closer and she could see the differences in them, between the armies though not individuals. She wanted to see Jon’s face. But she couldn’t.

Instead, she got closer, until the city looked less like a figurine and more like a place where people lived. Her stomach burned at the thought that her people might get caught up in this. She prayed that they knew what was happening, that they stayed inside their homes while she dispensed with these sellswords.

She wondered if she would be able to smell their fear when she got close. Her brother had always told her that he could smell her fear when he threatened her, though Dany was not sure that fear had a smell. Her brother had been cruel. Dany was not going to ever be cruel.

Hope soared in her, even as she commanded Drogon to fire on the gilded troops. She could hear their screams, though they were more like echoes from where she was. They bounced and fell, like balls in a game that Dany had played in the garden of that house with the red door in Braavos. The taste of lemon weighed heavily on her tongue. Perhaps she would plant a lemon tree outside of her window in the Red Keep, once she had rid it of the vermin.

XXX

Jaime and Brienne’s troops arrived, not at all well-rested, but there and eager to fight. Before they could begin with their battle plan, the dragon that had been a ribbon in the skies landed before them, its rider swinging down. Passion flaring in her eyes, they saw a queen in victory.

“Lord Jaime, Lady Brienne,” Queen Daenerys greeted. “You arrived in time. I am most glad. You will send your men in to take part in the defeat of Cersei?”

Jaime inclined his head and Brienne felt anxiety swell in her stomach. Perhaps it was the baby telling her that it was dangerous. Before Brienne could voice these concerns, Jaime was sharing his plan to ensure the safety of the civilians in the Red Keep with the queen, who agreed with it most righteously. Brienne swallowed.

Queen Daenerys asked them to leave immediately and finish the attack, before she strode away, to where her handmaiden stood waiting to speak with her. Brienne grasped Jaime’s wrist. “I’m scared,” she confessed, feeling tears swell behind her eyes. More than anything, more than the pain of her swollen feet and her back and the discomfort of most of her body due to the pregnancy, more than all of that, Brienne wanted to be by Jaime’s side when he rode into King’s Landing to face Cersei.

She’d been dreaming for weeks of what Cersei would do to Jaime, if she would kill him for the sake of dying together, if she would kill him for betraying her, if she would kill him for marrying someone else. “I know,” Jaime murmured, brushing his thumb against the rough skin of the back of Brienne’s hand.

“Take my sword,” she begged, pulling Oathkeeper from her belt. It sat at her side rather than at her front now, though she refused to give up holding it. Who knew when an attacker was near? Jaime swallowed but this he easily agreed to. They swapped the similar looking swords. Brienne supposed that it was easier to go into battle with his wife’s sword than his son’s.

“I’ll be back,” Jaime promised, kissing her so lightly that Brienne forced his lips back down onto hers, to feel his warmth one last time before he rode away. He smirked as she pulled away. “You can do that some more this evening.” Brienne couldn’t laugh though and only met his eyes. “Stop worrying, wench. In a few month’s time, I will be telling our babe how heroic and brave I was during the Battle of King’s Landing.”

Brienne smiled at the thought and nodded slightly. When he kissed her and rode off, Addam by his side and his men at his back, all Brienne could think was that she had not told him that she loved him.

XXX

Arya had never really considered that the Mountain was even bigger than the Hound. She had always assumed that he just seemed so huge because she had been so young. When they had approached King’s Landing, using a passageway that Arya herself had used to escape King’s Landing all those years ago, through the crypts, and had seen the Mountain, stood guard outside Cersei’s bedchamber, where she was presumably hiding, Arya had found herself suddenly aware of why this task was so impossible.

Sandor was nervous and Arya hated that. She was not sure if she had ever seen him nervous before in her life, not truly nervous as he was now. She knew that he hated his brother, knew that he had been cruel and evil, but she had not anticipated the fear. Sharing a look with Gendry, Arya swore to herself - and to her father’s gods - that she would help Sandor bring down this evil man, who had raped Elia of Dorne to death and smashed a baby’s head against a wall. She would see this man gone from the world as though he too were on her list.

She drew an arrow from her quiver. Though she had hardly shot a bow in years, she had found at Winterfell that it was not something she could forget and, with little practice, was soon on track to be as good as she had been once, and quickly improved on that too. And arrows were always handy, especially when you had a relatively small sword. Close range and long range was available when you had arrows.

Arya found the Hound’s narrowed eyes upon her and she only winked before darting across the corridor almost silently, a feat which neither Gendry nor the Hound would be able to undertake with the same success as a Faceless Man. She set her bow and aimed for the Mountain’s neck, turning and widening her eyes meaningfully at her betrothed and her - friend.

The arrow hit the side of his neck. A second hit the front. He was too big, too strong, too slow. He pulled each and ignored the blood, turning his fury on the end of the corridor, where they waited. Another arrow hit him in the belly, a fourth in the cheek. The Hound charged.

Arya kept her flurry of arrows going, aiming for his face, his neck and his heart, distracting him from his younger and smaller brother’s blows.

He was a monster, the Mountain. The arrows that Arya had hit him with would have killed any other man, ten times over, and, though Arya sensed he was weakening, he was still too strong to defeat. Gendry had not entered the fight yet and Arya worried that he would have to, just as her arrow hit the front of the Mountain’s throat, shooting through the lump on the front of men’s necks and making him jerk.

Arya grinned and shot another arrow at his head, but it wasn’t needed. The Mountain’s distracted efforts to breathe were enough for the Hound to gain the upper hand. Arrow still ready to shoot, Arya slinked back to where Gendry stood, hammer ready to finish the job if the Hound called for help, or if he died.

The Hound was smaller than the Mountain, so his speed was superior, his reactions faster and his movements less jerky. His great sword swiped once at his brother’s stomach, cutting it open, and then a second time, at his neck, where he cut as far as Arya’s arrow, about halfway. The Mountain yowled and swung his sword randomly, in rage, in fear perhaps. Arya wondered if Cersei’s monster could feel fear.

She also wondered if Cersei could hear the defeat of her monster. She was surely inside the chambers that the Mountain was guarding. This was the obstacle that Arya needed to surpass to reach Cersei. Why was she not reacting? Why was she not fleeing? Arya had the sudden unpleasant thought that perhaps Cersei would end her own life. Arya would not give her the chance.

Another great swing of the Hound’s sword took his brother’s head from his body, landing on the ground with a mighty thump and crack that made the hairs on Arya’s arms stand on end. The huge monstrous body fell with a louder sound, each one warning Cersei inside. Arya had no time to deal with the Hound’s wide-eyed staring at his brother. She had to reach Cersei before someone else got the chance, or before she escaped, or before she killed herself. Cersei deserved to die a painful death, without control.

Bow slung over her shoulder, Arya pulled Needle from her waist, made eye contact with Gendry and then approached the door, fathoming at Cersei’s arrogance at having only one guard, even if he were a monster. The door opened easily too, clearly unbarred. Doubt bubbled beneath Arya’s armour. She pressed on. If Cersei were somewhere else, she would find her and kill her there too.

But Cersei was not somewhere else. And Arya had broken the oath that she had made to her sister not to underestimate Cersei. Because Cersei did not only have one guard. The Mountain was a preliminary protection.

The far greater one was the woman she held in front of her as a shield, a woman who most of the army would struggle to allow to die, even for the sake of the queen.

Brienne’s blue eyes were wide as Arya met them and stopped her progress into the room.

XXX

They had taken her as she was making water. Fed up with the constant companion of one of the guards who Daenerys had kept with her handmaiden, Brienne had sneaked away to the surrounding woods, making water alone, in privacy, and she was about to return, thoughts of Jaime darting about in her mind, when she was taken.

Lead away from the camp, Brienne was confused by where they were taking her. There was a tunnel, beneath the city, leading to the castle, angering Brienne, who foresaw the nobles escaping the city and leaving the civilians to die.

But the nobles weren’t fleeing. When Brienne dared to ask a question to the guards that had kidnapped her, she found herself backhanded and her question unanswered. She determined to stay silent. Her baby was the most important thing. She had to protect her baby. And that meant protecting herself.

They had brought her up through the Red Keep, which was almost peaceful in its silence, as though war was not waging outside its walls, what remained of the Golden Company and the soldiers who were loyal to Cersei and Euron fighting the mighty forces of Daenerys Targaryen. There could be only one winner.

And, yet, Brienne was put before Cersei, who remained in her chambers despite it all, despite the tunnel that could have been her saving grace. And Cersei smiled.

The guards left. Cersei told them they could leave the city if they wished, provided that the Mountain remained a guard outside of Cersei’s door. The door closed and Brienne watched it happen. Her sword, Joffrey’s sword, Jaime’s sword, was in Cersei’s hands, on her lap. She stared at it with a glimmer in her eye that Brienne did not understand.

“Sit,” Cersei commanded, not looking up. Brienne swallowed and did. She knew the danger she was in here and she had to think of the baby. “This is my son’s sword.”

The statement was not a question, but Brienne answered anyway, “yes.”

“Why do you have it?”

“Jaime gave it to me.”

Cersei looked up at that, though Brienne knew that she was not surprised. There was nothing to be surprised by. Cersei knew the answer when she asked the question.

“Jaime, your husband,” Cersei said. Her eyes were just the same as Jaime’s. It was quite disconcerting.

“Jaime, my husband,” Brienne confirmed.

“My brother, Jaime, your husband,” she sighed and looked back down at the sword. Brienne squirmed in her chair, discomforted by Cersei’s silence. “What do you think of him?” Brienne blinked and Cersei looked up, a peal of laughter escaping from her, bitter rather than joyful. “We are the only two people who have ever fucked Jaime. What do you think?”

Brienne swallowed the nausea that rose in her throat, swallowed the hatred that she felt for this woman.

“Come along, Lady Brienne, surely Jaime has not married a prude. Certainly not if you are already so far with child.”

She truly did sound bitter when she said that and Brienne wondered if she was thinking of her own children, Jaime’s first children. Brienne’s heart clenched at the thought that she did not know where Jaime was, did not know if he was safe.

“I suppose you waited until your wedding night to fuck him, kept him waiting,” Cersei said with a bored tone. Brienne wanted to protect her baby, to do what Cersei said, but she could not discuss Jaime with his sister, particularly not what they did together in bed. Jaime was hers and she wanted to protect him too, even if it was only from the evil thoughts of his sister. “And, if you did, he must have got you pregnant straight away. You must be very fertile. He only managed to impregnate me three times in all our lives.”

Brienne pursed her lips. She did not speak, though she considered that that probably had more to do with Cersei’s body than Jaime’s. “Why am I here?” she said eventually.

Cersei cackled like a witch from a bedtime story. The sound made Brienne want to curl her arms around her stomach and keep it away from her baby’s small ears. “You are my goodsister, Lady Brienne. Perhaps I simply wanted to know you.” Brienne only met the queen’s eyes. “Or perhaps I wanted to see what Jaime had sullied himself with after me.”

“I love Jaime,” Brienne said honestly.

“And you believe I do not?” Cersei said, the bored tones replaced by utter rage. “You believe I do not love the man with whom I spent my entire life?”

“I believe you love him.”

“But not as much as you, I suppose?”

“Not as much as me.”

“Because you would do anything for him,” Cersei mocked, “would die for him, would kill for him.”

Brienne shook her head. “Because I want him to be happy even it means I am not.”

Cersei’s face shrivelled, whether at Brienne’s words or at the thought of her brother being happy Brienne did not know. The song of swords outside the door interrupted them and Cersei laughed, standing. She was taller than Brienne expected, though not quite as tall as Jaime and certainly not as tall as Brienne.

“Stand now, goodsister, I have need of you.”

So, when Arya stormed into Cersei’s chambers, Brienne was standing before Cersei, herself and her baby her human shield. Brienne watched the fire die in Arya’s eyes.

XXX

“Gendry,” Arya said, swallowing. “You and Sandor should go and find Euron.”

“I won’t leave you,” Gendry muttered. Arya shook her head slowly and did not say anything until both Sandor and Gendry had left. Euron had to die and Arya had to protect Brienne.

Arya wished that Sansa were there to see Cersei die. Because she would die. They would move the sword that Cersei had at Brienne’s throat and Cersei would die and Brienne would live, Brienne’s baby would live.

“Your brother will hate you if you do anything with that knife,” Arya said plainly. She put Needle back at her waist, not willing to risk Brienne. Brienne’s eyes were full of fear, a new look on her to Arya’s eyes. But, Arya supposed, her baby was at risk as well as her.

Arya wondered where Jaime was, if he was on his way here. Perhaps he would be able to talk Cersei down without costing Brienne her life. On the other hand, perhaps he would just panic and cause her death.

“My brother hates me anyway,” Cersei said and the knife dancing at Brienne’s throat. Arya’s heart lurched into her throat. “How is your sister? I hear she is my goodsister once again.”

Arya glared at Cersei but responded, “she is happy.” Cersei scowled and she moved the knife again. Brienne inhaled sharply enough that Arya heard it. “Stop,” Arya said softly but whatever was going to come out of her mouth next was interrupted by a crash as the door opened behind them.

She did not know the man who entered, but he was in Lannister armour so must have arrived with Jaime and Brienne. He was tall, dark-haired and quite attractive for his age. His brown eyes widened at the sight of Brienne, his lips parted. “Brienne,” he breathed.

Arya turned to Brienne, who also showed signs of recognising this man. Cersei smirked.

“Addam Marbrand, I heard you were back with my brother. I suppose you were positively gleeful that he had married someone else.” Arya did know the name Addam Marbrand, the leader of the rest of Jaime’s troops. It made sense that Cersei knew him.

“What are you doing, Cersei?” Addam said and Arya could almost hear the pleading in his voice, the lack of understanding at what she was doing. “Jaime would never forgive you.”

Arya watched Brienne’s eyes drop and narrowed her own. Brienne knew something that Arya did not, perhaps that this pleading on Jaime’s behalf was useless, that Cersei did not love her brother enough to drop the knife. Arya wished that Brienne were not pregnant and could fight herself out of this.

Addam turned to a soldier by the door and whispered something. Arya’s stomach stirred with the thought of what he had whispered. She was not sure that this was going to work out as well as they had hoped.

XXX

When Jaime saw his sister holding a knife to his wife’s throat, he was fairly certain that he was dreaming. This was a dream he had had before, had woken up from it panting and scared. Cersei threatening Brienne was a nightmare come to life and Jaime could not find a way out of it.

Jaime stepped into the room and Cersei only smirked, her eyes alight with beautiful anger. “Cersei,” Jaime said warningly, though his eyes were on Brienne’s, wide and blue. He had not told her that he loved her, had not said those words. What if this were the end? Was the thought of Brienne dying without knowing that Jaime loved her scary enough that it was worth the wrath that Cersei would bring if she heard the words?

Jaime shifted to the left and Cersei shifted to the right so that they remained eye-to-eye, in a straight line, equal power. “Cersei, Brienne is carrying my child. You know what it is to lose a baby. Do not make me do that again.”

It was Jaime’s only ploy, to appeal to Cersei’s sense of being a mother, the only thing that his brain could conjure. It was received by a scoff.

“Our children’s deaths did not affect you. If you had loved them, you would have protected them. I lost three children while you and Tyrion get new families, new chances.”

Jaime could hear the grief still in her voice, the bitterness at what life had given her, despite all she had earned for herself. Power and a throne for the price of three dead children. Jaime wondered whether she thought it was worth it. He hoped she didn’t but thought she might.

“Lady Lannister,” Cersei sang, drawing the knife across Brienne’s throat.

“Jaime,” Brienne blurted and Jaime’s eyes filled with tears at the sound of her fear. Her hands were clutching her stomach, their baby that lay there, waiting to come into the world and be their pride and joy. Jaime had to close his eyes to clear the tears. He swallowed.

“Lady Lannister,” Cersei said again, tightening the knife. “Brienne of Tarth and Sansa Stark. Even if I kill your ugly wife, Sansa remains.” Jaime had forgotten quite how much Cersei hated Sansa. “One of them will be Lady Lannister, while I remain a Baratheon.”

“That was your choice, Cersei,” Jaime said carefully, edging to the left again, so that Cersei’s back was to the edge of the room, to the bed where they had lain together in the past. Jaime was close to Arya. Cersei was closer to Addam. Jaime swallowed.

“It was not my choice,” Cersei snapped. “Father forced me to be a Baratheon, forced me to be queen, forced me to do everything for the good of our family.” Cersei laughed and moved the dagger from Brienne’s neck to her stomach, to their baby. Jaime’s breath rasped out of him. “Well, this will be for the good of our family too.”

But, before Cersei could angle the knife into Brienne’s stomach, into their baby, Brienne wrenched the dagger from her hand, easier at this angle, and span around, holding the dagger tight to Cersei’s neck. Jaime watched the delight turn to fear in his sister’s eyes, felt his own fear turn to blinding relief.

“Tell me to stop, Jaime,” Brienne cried, reminding Jaime that it was not over and Cersei still had to die. She had to die. Jaime had known it for months, maybe for years. She could not be allowed to live. Jaime made eyes with Addam, in the perfect position as Jaime had hoped.

“Stop,” Jaime breathed, reaching out for Brienne and pulling her away, just as Addam buried his sword in Cersei’s back.

XXX


	16. Chapter 16

“I don’t think it was as beautiful as our wedding,” Jaime said as he walked into the dining room at Casterly Rock. Brienne looked up at him and rolled her eyes. She had commented an hour ago, as she left their chambers, that Arya and Gendry’s wedding was very beautiful. And, Jaime being Jaime, it was still on his mind.

“Have I told you that you are the most competitive man I know?” Brienne asked exasperatedly, pursing her lips to accept his kiss and upturning her lips slightly as he rubbed his hand over her stomach, which seemed to be growing ridiculously large. She could hardly believe she had another month and a half of this growth to go.

“He has to be the most competitive because he’s not the most anything else,” Addam called from the other side of the hall, where he sat with a letter. Brienne laughed and Jaime squawked.

“My wife thinks I am the most handsome, don’t you, sweetling?” he said with a slow wink and bite of his lip that made Brienne think of the way he had fucked her last night, their first night back at Casterly Rock. They had fucked in the bedroom that Jaime had claimed as their room, a room without memories of his father or of Cersei, with views over the sea and a plain gold bedspread, rather than the gold lions that had covered his father’s bed.

“You’re the most something,” Brienne said, pursing her lips and folding her arms.

Jaime chuckled and half-hugged her into his side, pressing his lips to her ear to say, “the most amazing fuck.”

Brienne shoved him away, her face flaming. She ignored Addam’s knowing look. “Shall we break our fast?” Jaime hummed in agreement and they approached the bench where Addam sat, one seat in the centre taller than the others. Brienne wrinkled her nose. They had arrived after dinner last night to reach Casterly Rock, so this was the first time she was seeing Tywin Lannister’s obvious superiority complex.

Thankfully, Jaime took a seat closer to Addam than the centre and Brienne sat next to him. When Queen Daenerys had taken the castle, she had left it as soon as she realised that it was a useless prize, empty of people and resources. Thus, there were no servants or courtiers at the castle, for now. It meant that they could do whatever they liked, even sitting in non-thronelike seats.

“We’re getting rid of that chair,” Brienne muttered as she sat down. The corners of Jaime’s lips twitched.

The cook who travelled with them had been happily settled into the Casterly Rock kitchens, so they did have proper food, although it must have involved Saeyra, the cook, going to the market very early that morning. “We should send our thanks to Saeyra,” was Brienne’s next suggestion. Jaime nodded, though the surprised raise of his eyebrows suggested to Brienne that this was not a common practice in Casterly Rock. That would change. At Evenfall Hall, Brienne and her father had sent down their compliments to Arnie, their cook, almost every night. Brienne had even spent some time in the kitchens, when there was no one who would spar with her and when the weather meant that she could not go exploring in the mountains or sailing on the seas. Brienne’s heart yearned for her home. Perhaps she would write to her father and ask him to visit before the baby was born, so that he could meet Jaime.

Although perhaps a Jaime holding a grandchild would elicit a less averse response from her father. Brienne bit her lip to hide her giggle. “What are you laughing at?” Jaime asked, his tone amused.

Brienne allowed herself a grin and grabbed his hand to hold impulsively. “Just my father’s response to my marrying you.”

“He’s written?” Jaime asked curiously. Brienne shook his head.

“No, I’m imagining.”

Addam snorted. Brienne ignored him. “He won’t be pleased by our marriage, I presume?” Jaime said, his tone sardonic rather than amused. Brienne rolled her eyes and squeezed his hand.

“Not at all. Who would be?”

Addam laughed aloud at that and Brienne had to join in at the sight of Jaime’s scowl. She rubbed her thumb across his hand. “I’m sure you’ll win him around. You won me around.”

Jaime scoffed. “You’re right. I’m sure having a bath with your father will work exactly the same.” It was Brienne’s turn to scowl.

“I’m counting on our child being born to win him around.”

“Oh, wonderful, so I’m just the man who gives him grandchildren. He is going to hate me.”

Brienne rolled her eyes fondly and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, ignoring Addam’s mocking wolfwhistle. “I’ll change his mind.” Jaime still looked disgruntled so Brienne let go of his hand to allow him to eat, turning to her food herself. Her husband truly was a ridiculous man - but he was right. Her father had not replied to her letter that announced her marriage to him. She had received a letter since the end of the war, but he had not mentioned her marriage whatsoever.

She would invite him to Casterly Rock immediately and he would be there for the birth, giving him plenty of time to get to know Jaime for himself and then also meet his first grandchild right away.

XXX

“Have you heard from the queen?” Sansa asked as she took the hat from her head and threw it onto the chair, ignoring Tyrion’s amused glance at her laziness.

Tyrion shook his head. “I’m sure she’s well, though,” he said, loosening his tie. “There was a raven from Casterly Rock.” Sansa raised her eyebrows at him.

“Has Brienne had the baby?” she asked eagerly.

“Not yet. She’s got another moon until her time.”

Sansa shrugged. She took her cloak from her back and laid it on top of her riding hat. “I know. I just want some excitement around her.”

“You don’t find settling wildlings into the Gift exciting? Some Lady of Winterfell you are,” Tyrion teased. Sansa narrowed her eyes and Tyrion grinned. “Is our sex life not exciting enough for you? We’ve barely been married six moons and you’re already bored. Where did I go wrong?”

“We’ve been married for far more than six moons, Tyrion,” Sansa said but she could not hide her smile. “I’m glad to be home.”

“As am I, my dear,” Tyrion said. Sansa sat down on the stool and smiled as he approached to untie her laces. They had been away from Winterfell for nearly a full moon, settling wildlings into the Gift and then visiting a few great houses on the way home. Sansa was tired, physically and mentally. She wanted a few days of lying in bed with her husband before she returned to the work of upkeeping Winterfell.

“Are you ready to have the Northern independence debate or do you want to leave it a few days?” Sansa asked when Tyrion had fully loosened her corset, enough for her to shake it off and reveal her breasts. She noticed where Tyrion’s eyes had gone and smirked. “I think I could ask you to start a civil war right now and you’d agree.”

Tyrion’s eyes did not move but he said, “by asking for Northern independence, you are essentially asking me to start a civil war.” Sansa tutted and started fiddling with her skirt, loosening it enough for her to step out of it, leaving her in only her stockings. “Take your stockings off and we might have a deal.”

Sansa knew that he would never agree to Northern independence truly, not while Daenerys lived. She wasn’t really sure that she wanted it with Jon on the throne but she did want it to be a backup response, when things started going wrong. Sansa had had niggling doubts in the back of her head for far longer than she had confessed to Tyrion and she wanted to have a plan for when her doubts became reality.

Tyrion would never support it, though, and she understood why. He truly believed that Daenerys, with Jon at her side, would do good things for the North. Sansa could see why and perhaps Jon would fight the North’s corner, but too many monarchs had treated the North poorly and it had suffered too much for the past few years. Sansa wanted to see it secure, under the rule of someone who loved it and knew how best to rule it.

“You’re thinking too much, Sansa,” Tyrion said. Sansa blinked and found him in front of her, entirely naked. He attached his teeth to the top of her stocking and Sansa stared at him in confusion. He pulled the stocking all the way down to the floor and then repeated the action. And, then, just when Sansa was about to mock his odd action, he reminded her why having a husband who came up to her hips was so wonderful, by burying his face between her thighs and removing thoughts of independence, wildlings and even her name from her brain.

XXX

Brienne’s father arriving was not a huge event. His carriage was solitary and looked as though it were any other visitor arriving at Casterly Rock. It was not the procession that Jaime’s father would have ordered to ensure that everyone that it passed could see who was travelling and how important they were.

Jaime and Brienne greeted him at the door, along with half the staff, to show how important and valued a visitor Lord Selwyn was to the Westerlands. Addam was working in Lannisport with his men, assuring the safety of the city, so he was not there to be a buffer between Jaime and his goodfather, despite his promises.

Brienne’s father was enormously tall, even taller than Brienne, which was frankly ridiculous and unnecessary. The Tarth family must have bred with giants. Jaime had a sudden scary thought that his children would be giants. Brienne’s stomach was large, larger than Cersei’s had ever been. Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen had been small babies, though, Jaime tried to convince himself. It was Cersei that had been small, not Brienne who was large.

Unbidden, Jaime had a horrid thought of what a giant baby would do to Brienne’s cunt. Not the thoughts one was supposed to have in front of one’s goodfather.

Brienne and her father hugged. Lord Selwyn cradled Brienne’s head against his shoulder as though she was the most precious thing in the world. Jaime smiled at the sight of it. He was not the only person in the world who loved her so completely. Her father did and their child would soon too. If they included Sansa and Arya, they could have a real Brienne fan group going. Grinning, Jaime found Brienne’s eyes on him and he snapped into action, striding forward.

“Lord Selwyn, it is an honour to meet you,” he said, extending his hand. Lord Selwyn took it. He had a firm grip. He met Jaime’s eyes. His eyes were not Brienne’s, which meant Brienne’s eyes must be her mother’s. It made Jaime glad to know that she had something that was her mother’s.

“It is an honour to meet the man that my daughter believed worthy to be her husband,” Lord Selwyn replied. Jaime smiled but internally wondered whether or not that was a compliment. He’d worded it in a way that suggested to Jaime that Lord Selwyn did not believe that Jaime was worthy to be Brienne’s husband. Of course he was right but Jaime had thought that the man who let his daughter compete in melees and leave to fight the war of a man she was in love with would be less fussy with his daughter’s choice of husband. That had been what Jaime had hoped anyway.

Brienne linked her father and led him into Casterly Rock with a backwards glance at Jaime, who followed obediently. He was glad that his father was not alive, as awful as that was to say. At least he only had to deal with one disapproving parent. He had the feeling that his father might not have had the most pleasing things to say about Brienne.

Then again, she had married Jaime and that was all his father really looked for in a gooddaughter.

They sat in the small dining hall, which Jaime had had cleared out when he and Brienne arrived back at his childhood home. He had fond memories of the room from when he was small, before Tyrion was born, when he still had a mother. He remembered laughter in this room, his father’s smile, hearing stories from his mother. She had loved reading. Jaime wanted to read books to his child too, albeit at a slower, more stumbling pace.

“How long now, dearest?” Lord Selwyn said when they sat. He nodded at Brienne’s protruding abdomen. Brienne laid her hand on it, over the grey dress that she was wearing. Dresses were Brienne’s only choice now she was so big. Jaime had offered to have a tailor come in and fit her for some breeches but she had said that she was only going to keep growing and she may as well just wear a dress for a few months. Jaime didn’t necessarily mind it but he did feel slightly worried that she had given up some of who she was for the baby, which he had not wanted at all. Anytime he brought it up, Brienne was so touched and grateful for his support that they ended up having sex. All in all, it was very good.

“A few weeks, the maester says,” Brienne said, turning to Jaime with a beaming smile that reminded Jaime that they had made the conscious choice to bring this child into the world. It was not an accident, like his three children with Cersei. This baby was their choice and they wanted it so much.

“And are you ready? I could have our men send over some things from Tarth,” Lord Selwyn offered, leaning back from the table as a footman poured him some wine. Brienne shook her head.

“Jaime and I have bought all new things. We’ve moved the nursery too.”

Lord Selwyn gave Jaime a glance and then turned back to his daughter. Jaime felt shame rise in him at the thought of what Lord Selwyn considered when he looked at him. “Well, you certainly seem to have everything in hand and I expect no complications with the birth. You can’t have been married two seconds before you conceived so that is a fine sign that you will be able to raise an heir for Tarth as well as for - the Lannisters.”

The pause before he said Jaime’s family name had Brienne clutching Jaime’s knee, as though to stop him saying something. Jaime didn’t have anything to say. He knew his family’s reputation. Defending it to his goodfather would be fruitless. Everything that people said of the Lannisters was well earned.

“That is what we hope,” Brienne said, rather stiffly. Jaime thought she might have been more insulted by the slur to their family than him. She was a Lannister now, he supposed. “Father, we have some exciting news, actually,” she said and her face lit up. Jaime knew exactly what she was going to say. It was the only thing that really excited her. She didn’t mind spending time with the people of Lannisport or organising the servants, but their newest venture really, truly got her excited about this life. Her father cocked an eyebrow. “We are inviting squires to come and train here.”

Brienne explained the training school in as much detail as Jaime could have. This was their passion project, something they had been discussing since the end of the war. They wanted to train new knights, honourable knights, and the best way to do that was to invite squires to come and train with them, more than just the squire that they could each have. They wanted many to come and want to learn from them.

By the end of Brienne’s spiel, her father was grinning and the food was arriving. Jaime sipped at his wine as he watched his wife’s father clasp her hand and tell her how proud he was of her. Jaime had to smile, so grateful that Brienne’s father understood her so well.

Brienne thanked the footmen bringing in the food, as she always did, so sweetly, and then they dug in. Brienne’s appetite was huge. It had been large before, because she did so much exercise and expended so much energy, but it had grown to enormous proportions. Jaime felt like he ate like a child in comparison.

“Was Lady Sansa sorry to lose you?” Lord Selwyn asked Brienne as she swallowed some of the beef stew.

Jaime answered for her, “Sansa was very supportive of us leaving but she was crying as we actually left.”

“Of course she is married to your brother so I don’t doubt they will make many visits,” Lord Selwyn said, actually looking at Jaime for more than just a second’s glance. Jaime nodded.

“I was very proud that Sansa married Tyrion. They are a good match.”

“They are in love?” Lord Selwyn questioned. Jaime nodded, glancing at Brienne and seeing her smiling.

“I would say so,” Brienne agreed.

“And you are in love?”

Lord Selwyn said it as though it were any ordinary question, speaking as he tucked into his stew, his voice as level as it had been for the entire dinner, in fact since he stepped out of his carriage.

“Of course,” Jaime said, swallowing.

“You say ‘of course’ as though many men have been in love with my daughter, Lord Jaime.” Jaime looked to his wife for help but she was silent, staring at her father, her lips agape.

“I would not have married her unless I were in love with her,” Jaime said.

Lord Selwyn met his eyes. “Because you would have stayed with your sister otherwise?” Jaime saw Brienne bristle out of the corner of his eye. Jaime supposed that Lord Selwyn had a right to ask about Cersei but Jaime had never suspected that he would. Most people knew about his relationship with his sister but very few ever spoke about it to his face.

Jaime truly did not know what to say. He was very rarely lost for words and felt as though he was looking a fool because of it. He wanted Brienne to save him but she seemed to be lost for words too.

“You understand why I am asking, of course, Lord Jaime,” Lord Selwyn continued. Jaime hated that he was calling him Lord Jaime, though Jaime supposed he had not said he could do otherwise. “A few years ago, I received a letter from Lord Stannis Baratheon, telling me that the king of Westeros was a bastard, a child born of incest. Only a few months after that, I heard rumours that named my daughter as the Kingslayer’s Whore, and then I heard that you were back in King’s Landing, warming your sister’s bed, while my daughter was sent off to find the Stark girls.”

Jaime had to admit that Brienne’s father was well informed.

“Father, what does it matter now?” Brienne said and her voice was trying to be calm and dismissive. It came across as nervous and panicky.

“It matters an awful lot, dearheart. Your child is going to be the half-brother of children born of incest.”

Jaime literally watched as Brienne’s hackles raised. He likely should have been ashamed that he was letting his wife defend him, but he wasn’t. Brienne had always been better at that than him anyway. “All those children are dead now, Father. Neither they nor their mother have any bearing on my family. Jaime has made mistakes in his life and he will admit them freely, but he has also done good things. He is a man of honour -” that was Brienne’s favourite phrase when it came to defending him “- and I love him. Cersei is his past but I am his future. This baby is our future.”

Her father said nothing to that, only turned to Jaime. “Do you not find it suspicious that it was not until your father was at the gates of King’s Landing that you killed the Mad King?” Jaime did find it suspicious. He hated that coincidence of events. He also hated that that was what everyone focussed on, not the part where he killed a dangerous man. “I do not believe it to be a coincidence that, yet again, you fled to where it was safest, after backing the wrong horse all the way through the war.”

“You believe I married Brienne for the safety of her alliances?”

“I do,” Lord Selwyn said. His voice was strong and his face was stone. This was the first time this had been suggested to Jaime. It was the first time that anyone had suggested that Jaime had married Brienne for any reason but love. Most of the time people insisted that it must have been love, because of the way they felt about the way Brienne looked. As it was love, Jaime could hardly complain about that.

This, though, this he could complain about.

“Do you not believe your daughter to be worthy of love?”

“My daughter is the most honourable woman in the kingdoms but I am no fool. Most men would run a mile from her.”

Jaime smirked. “I am not most men.” Jaime could sense Brienne’s disapproval of the way he was going about this. “You may believe that I jumped ship at the last moment but you would be wrong. Your daughter spent months holding me captive and, when I was finally freed, I was hardly a day away when I returned to get her because I feared for her safety. I risked my life to save hers and that was the moment that I jumped ship. 

“I returned to King’s Landing to find my brother in the cells, my father disowning me and my sister warped and disgusted by me. My father and my sister wanted Brienne’s head on a platter for working with the Starks. They could not have cared less that she had protected me for months. In their eyes, she was the reason that I lost my hand and, therefore, my worth in their eyes. Instead of doing that, instead of giving them Brienne and regaining my place in my family, I sent her away to work for the Starks, my enemies.

“When she came to me and asked to speak with the Blackfish, a man I was fighting, I not only granted her safe passage but assured her escape in the midst of a battle. Yes, I stayed loyal to my son after that and, when he died, I -” Jaime swallowed “- I stayed with Cersei. I thought that I could protect the realm from the worst parts of her and I was wrong. When I realised how wrong I was, I stole her armies and marched north to save the realm.

“I admit that I stayed too long. I admit that I could have left Cersei earlier. I admit that our relationship was twisted and wrong but I will not admit to marrying Brienne for any reason other than that I am completely and utterly in love with her, that I want to spend every day of the rest of my life proving that I am worthy of her love and that I believe that I am the only man who fully accepts how wonderful and unique and honourable she is and loves her because of it and not in spite of it. I know who Brienne is. I know her flaws and I know her weaknesses and none of them make me want to run a mile.”

When Jaime finished, he was breathing heavily, still staring into his goodfather’s eyes. Lord Selwyn’s face had not altered all the way through. His mouth was still a grim line and his brows were still drawn together but his eyes had changed. His eyes had cleared of something and Jaime didn’t know whether it was a good thing or not.

“Let’s go,” Brienne whispered, despite the fact that half of her meal remained. Jaime furrowed his brow at her and she shook her head. “I want to go.”

Jaime nodded and stood, offering her his hand. He didn’t look back, though he saw that Brienne did. They left the room and Jaime closed his eyes, wondering whether he had just fucked things up irrevocably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to split this chapter in half because it ran away with me. Unbelievably, before I wrote this, Lord Selwyn was not even going to appear. Lol things changed.
> 
> THUS, the next chapter will be up, hopefully in about a week. I hope you like this! I really wanted Jaime to defend himself, so here we are, v defensive Jaime.


	17. Chapter 17

“He shouldn’t have said that to you,” Jaime said. Brienne cocked her head at him, though he didn’t see. He was sitting on the edge of their bed, his head in his hands, looking for all the world the weariest man on the planet. He was a dramatist.

“What’s that then?” she asked, approaching with a smile.

“That most men would run a mile.”

Brienne snorted. “It’s true, Jaime.” She saw that Jaime was about to speak up, to speak some lies about how she was beautiful and other people could see that. Before he could make a fool out of himself, Brienne said, “It’s not because I’m homely. My mother was homely and my father loved her. He’s always been upfront about the fact that that would not stop a man from falling in love with a woman if they were truly connected.”

Brienne watched Jaime crease his brow momentaneously. “But then-”

“My father supports me now in what I do, in sparring and that sort of thing,” Brienne told him, “but it wasn’t always so simple. We argued - a lot. I have a very positive relationship with my father now but- no man truly wants their daughter to fight.”

“I do,” Jaime protested and Brienne gave him an amused smile, perching herself next to him on their bed.

“Well, there’s only one Jaime Lannister,” she teased.

“You’re very perky considering we just argued with your father.”

Brienne pursed her lips. “Like I said, Jaime, my father and I always used to argue. He said that most men would run a mile because most men do not want a wife who fights rather than stays at home with the children and plays house.”

“Most men are wrong,” Jaime dismissed. Brienne smiled.

“And I love that you think that.”

“And I love you.” Brienne rolled her eyes as Jaime approached and pulled her close, his hand on her hip. “Are you going to speak to him tonight or make him sweat until tomorrow?”

Brienne barked out a laugh. “Make him sweat until tomorrow, of course.” Jaime grinned and covered her lips with his.

XXX

“Good mornng, Father,” Brienne said as she entered the small dining room. Jaime had gone to eat in the main dining hall with some of his men who were visiting, leaving Brienne to speak with her father alone. Any remnant anger at her father had faded away overnight. Her father’s comments were nothing new and they had given Jaime cause to defend her honour, very ably and very sweetly.

And, now, she got to see her father shame-faced and apologetic, which was always a pleasing sight. “Brienne,” he said, rising from the table to press a kiss to her cheek. Brienne let him and then sat down, cradling her stomach and smiling at her father. “I want to apologise for what I said last night, for how I treated your husband.”

“What you said you have said times before,” Brienne dismissed. She didn’t need her father to start pretending that she was beautiful again, as he had tried when she was very young. She much preferred when he was honest with her and complimented the things she valued: her honesty, her loyalty and her strength, in fighting and against those who spoke harshly to her. Her father’s honesty with her throughout her life had been what made her strong enough to survive the ball and the bet. “What made me angry was the way you treated Jaime.”

Her father nodded solemnly. “I can’t deny that I was surprised when I heard that you had married Jaime Lannister and I thought it was some big ruse, or a way of distracting Cersei, I don’t know. I thought he was using you and that he would either abandon you or die when the war was over. And then he survived and, when you asked me to come, I was thrilled. All the way here, though, I couldn’t stop thinking about him and about what I knew about him. So, when I arrived, my brain was in overdrive, thinking about what this awful man had done and how he was going to hurt you. I needed to be sure that he wasn’t going to.”

Brienne smiled. “Father, I need you to trust me. I married Jaime because I love him. I’m having Jaime’s babe because I love him.”

“I know that now,” he said with a quiet voice.

“Jaime has told me everything about his time under the Mad King and about Cersei. I do not judge him for his actions under either of them,” Brienne said. Her father met her eyes. “I am not going to ask Jaime to explain himself to you because I don’t believe he needs to. I know that you are going to take my word that he has made some bad decisions but that he has made lots of good ones too.”

“I do take your word, dearheart,” he said. “I want to get to know Jaime. I’m going to stay here until after you’ve given birth so that we can get to know each other.”

Brienne smiled and reached across the table to take her father’s hand. “That is all I ask.” They were interrupted by the breakfast arriving. The baby kicked in anticipation. “So, tell me all about things on Tarth.”

XXX

“And do you know who they were?” Jon demanded of Lord Varys, who sighed and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, your grace, but my little birds do not know. They are silent on the matter. It is most disconcerting to me, as well as, I’m sure, to her grace,” Lord Varys said in his silky voice. Jon almost groaned aloud, pushing a hand through his hair and realising belatedly that his crown sat atop it.

“How could anti-Targaryenists even have been allowed near the Red Keep?” Varys only shook his head. “Missandei was innocent in all things. To have targetted her was a personal attack on her grace.”

Varys nodded his head. “This is what I fear also. Missandei was a good child, who should not have been killed. The anti-Targaryen faction is taking your joint ascension most unhappily.”

“I thought that my being Ned Stark’s so- ward might have helped,” Jon said tiredly. “But we are receiving news of riots and more and more death threats by the day. Grey Worm’s Unsullied are being picked off one by one and the Dothraki are not allowed to buy anything in King’s Market.”

“It is a very fragile situation. Even one wrong step could be the difference between a reign of fifty years and a reign of not even one.” With that onimous statement, Varys left Jon, scuttling away, back to wherever he went and slept and plotted. Jon didn’t even know where the man’s quarters were. 

Sighing, he turned and headed towards his own chambers, where he hoped to find Dany. After they had returned from Missandei’s wake, she had immediately returned to their chambers, dressed all in black. Thankfully, the day had been cold, as winter continued to hold its icy fingers over the city. The wind had been bitter as the Unsullied had carried Missandei’s coffin to the cliffside where they had decided to bury her, where Grey Worm had declared her to be free forever.

It had been incredibly difficult to watch Grey Worm hold himself together. Dany had not faired so well, sobbing openly from the beginning. Jon clenched his fists as he reached his guarded door. The attack had been so cruel.

Jon found Grey Worm in the solar that was linked to their chambers, with Dany. Grey Worm was standing, his hands behind his back. Dany noticed Jon in the doorway. Her cold face did not change, though he saw recognition in her eyes. “Leave us now, Tordo Nudho,” Dany said and Grey Worm simply inclined his head and exited, not with a single look at Jon.

Dany stood and walked into their chambers. “How are you?” Jon asked softly.

“Fine,” she snapped. Jon didn’t take it personally. “I’ll be better once our enemies are dead.”

Jon nodded, swallowing. “I’m afraid that Varys didn’t know who the attackers were.”

Dany took a heavy necklace off from around her neck. “That doesn’t matter. We know who the anti-Targaryen families are. Grey Worm is going to take retribution from them instead.”

Jon froze. Dany continued to undress. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. She was so calm, so organised as she took each piece of clothing off and hung it from her walls. Since Missandei’s death, she had insisted on doing it all herself.

“Dany,” Jon started slowly, “we can’t simply kill the families who oppose us if they have made no moves to force us out.”

Dany looked at Jon, blinking. “People from their faction came and they killed Missandei. Whether they were truly from their families or not, they were sponsored by their families, paid by them. That deserves some retribution.”

“So, you’re going to kill what? One of every house?” Jon asked, panic rising in his voice. Dany arched an eyebrow. “More? Dany, you have to speak to me!”

Dany scowled. She was entirely naked now. “I don’t have to do anything, Jon. These people killed my friend and they are going to die for it.”

“All of them?” Jon asked quietly. Dany was silent. “Dany, please tell me that you have not ordered the deaths of their entire families. These attackers may have been acting alone!”

“Or they may not have been. Either way, we take out a legitimate threat to our reign!”

“And anger the population. Dany, you can’t truly-”

“I can!”

Her voice was venomous. He’d known that she was angry, known that she was mourning heavily, but this was rash and it was something that she would never be able to take back. When these families were dead, it would be what people remembered her reign by. A massacre of opponents.

Jon couldn’t bear to look at her. He turned around and left the chambers to those that were officially his, though they had never been used. He had to write to Tyrion, to ask for advice and to plead for help. If this rash behaviour continued, Dany would lose the throne before she had sat it for a year.

XXX

Brienne loved the market at Lannisport. It was full and bustling and sold all manner of things, so much more than the fish, vegetables and occasional goats’ wool that could be found in Tarth’s main market. Every time she came to the city, she insisted on visiting and on buying from as many stalls as possible. This time, her father was with her.

She took him to her favourite stall, which sold a sort of bean stew that they served in bowls and you ate right there. It was delicious and Brienne had been craving it when she left Casterly Rock that morning. She greeted the husband and wife who worked there by name and introduced her father.

“My lady, my lord,” Daeron said with a deep bow. Brienne smiled and asked for the stew, asking quickly for some details of their lives and their children. She had visited this stall every time she had come to the market and, because she ate right next to them, she had learned a little of their lives.

“Oh, my mother is sick, my lady, so we are looking after her too. My boy has just started working in the mines to help us out a little,” Daeron’s wife, Aelsa, said. Brienne furrowed her brow.

“What happened to the boy who you said loved to sword fight?” Brienne asked between mouthfuls. Daeron shrugged. 

“We needed the money, milady.”

Once Brienne and her father had finished their stews and given the compliments to Daeron and Aelsa, they moved on to a stall that sold vegetables and spoke with the owners there too, and so on and so forth. Between stalls, Brienne’s father asked her, “Why did you ask about their boy?”

“I just remembered them mentioning that he loved to sword fight, that he had said that one day he wanted to be as good as Jaime, a knight. I was just sad for a lost dream.”

Her father gave her a piercing look. “Brienne, you’re about to start a knight training school. You can choose who you would like as your students.”

“Even small boys from the back streets of Lannisport?” Brienne asked skeptically. “I don’t want us to become a laughing stock.”

Lord Selwyn shrugged. “Then teach them to fight well and you won’t be.”

Brienne smiled uneasily and nodded, wondering whether her father was right.

XXX

By the time Brienne arrived back to the castle, hours later, she was exhausted, her feet aching from the walking and her back crying for her to lie down. She found Jaime also lying down in their rooms.

“Hi, love,” she said wearily as she entered. Jaime smiled though he didn’t open his eyes.

“Hello, sweetling. How was Lannisport? Did you have the bean stew?”

Brienne grinned and sunk down onto the other side of the bed to Jaime. “Mmhmm,” she said as she curled up into his side. He wrapped an arm around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I want to invite their son to be a knight with us.”

“Whose son?” Jaime asked but Brienne was interrupted by a pain racing across her stomach, forcing her to cry out. Jaime was immediately alert. “What is it? Are you okay?” he asked quickly.

Brienne nodded, staring down at her stomach. “Jaime, I think it’s starting.”

“What?”

“The baby, you idiot! I think the baby is coming,” she said, her voice shaking. Jaime gasped, his eyes going wide.

“But the maester said two more weeks! He didn’t even tell you to go into confinement yet!”

Brienne smiled at the thought of escaping the horrid duty of confinement but the smile fell as another pain started. “Jaime, go and get the maester and the midwife,” she panicked.

Jaime nodded, standing up and hurrying to the door where Brienne heard him ordering the guards to fetch help. She smiled as he returned to the bed and helped her into a more comfortable position, sat up. “Don’t leave me,” Brienne reminded Jaime, grabbing his hand desperately.

Smiling, Jaime took a seat beside her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. “Never, wench..”

XXX

The pain went on for hours. Hours and hours and hours. Jaime did not leave her side. Her father waited outside and she could hear him pacing. She knew that he was nervous of her going through what her mother had, with painful births and children who did not live, but Brienne was strong and Jaime knew that she was going to survive and their child was going to survive.

And so they did.

As the sun came up in the morning, Joanna Lannister of Tarth was born, heir to Casterly Rock and to Tarth, for the moment. Brienne was fighting her exhaustion, even as she cried with their daughter in her arms. Jaime could not stop his tears either. The midwife watched them with soft eyes as she tidied Brienne up below.

Joanna was a big baby, though not as big as Jaime had thought. She was golden-haired and pink-skinned. Her eyes were blue, which Jaime took to mean that she would have Brienne’s eyes, until the midwife told him that all babies’ eyes start blue and then change, very disappointingly. Jaime wanted all their children to have Brienne’s eyes.

“You did so well, wench,” Jaime muttered against her head. Brienne laughed wearily.

“Still calling me wench,” she said. Jaime grinned and looked at Joanna.

“Always.”

“Jaime, we have a baby. Who let us have a baby?”

Jaime could only laugh. “You were quite insistent.”

Brienne shook her head stubbornly, never taking her eyes from Joanna. “No, no, it was you that was insistent. You used to rub my stomach after every fuck.”

Jaime gasped in mock horror. “Wench, don’t swear in front of my daughter!” Brienne glared at him and Jaime only grinned, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “I love you,” he reminded her.

“I love you too.”

XXX

“So, what are you going to change the name of the castle to?” Sansa asked as she began to tuck into the food that had been delivered to her chambers at Winterfell. Bronn nodded his head, swallowing some of the rich stew. Sansa and Tyrion turned curious eyes upon him.

“Fort Bronn,” the ex-sellsword pronounced proudly.

Sansa snorted. Tyrion rolled his eyes. “I suppose you haven’t stretched your creative muscle much as a sellsword,” Sansa’s husband commented. Bronn grinned.

“This way, all the future generations remember my great name.”

“They’ll share your surname,” Tyrion reminded him. Bronn shook his head.

“It’s not my bleeding surname, is it? It’s Blackwater, like the bay in King’s Landing. It’s just where I was knighted, nothin’ more. But if our bleeding castle has my name? That’ll go down in the generations.”

“And the sigil?” Sansa asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Does she give you that look in bed?” Bronn asked Tyrion with a smirk. Sansa scowled and Bronn snorted. “Actually, I imagine she gives a tiny fucker like you that scowl more often.”

“That’s enough, Bronn,” Tyrion said, though Sansa could tell from his twitching lips that he had enjoyed the baudy commentary. She didn’t really mind it. “What sigil have you chosen?”

“A dwarf.”

Sansa choked. “Fuck off,” Tyrion said, his mouth agape. Bronn was positively gleeful.

“Why not? The patron dwarf of House Blackwater.”

“Fuck off,” Tyrion repeated but he was laughing. Sansa looked between her husband and the new Lord of Fort Bronn (once the Dreadfort). “You are a fool, Bronn.”

Bronn grinned. “Memorable, though, isn’t it? No one is going to forget the dwarf of Fort Bronn.”

Just as Sansa opened her mouth to reply, there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” she called. One of the maester’s assistants entered, his robes flapping as he did.

“Two ravens, my lady, my lords. One from Casterly Rock and one from King’s Landing.”

Sansa jumped up to take the ravens and to thank the messenger. She threw Jon’s missive to Tyrion and opened the one from Jaime and Brienne. She barely read a few words before she squealed.

“She’s had the baby!”

Tyrion looked up from Jon’s scroll and his serious look turned into a smile. “A boy or a girl?”

“A girl,” Sansa said fondly. “A girl.” She liked the idea of having a girl. Unbidden, an image of a baby girl of her own came into her mind. She imagined holding her and rocking her and watching her grow up. “Oh, Tyrion, they called her Joanna.”

Tyrion froze. “Joanna,” he repeated. Sansa met his eyes and nodded.

“Joanna.”

Tyrion’s solemn face cracked into a small smile. “I’m sure she’ll be strong and kind, like her parents.” Sansa nodded. “My dear, Jon’s news is less exciting.”

Sansa swallowed. Tyrion glanced at Bronn but decided to read the letter anyway. By the end, Sansa’s throat was tight with tears for her brother, for Daenerys and for Missandei - for Missandei most of all. And her mind went into overdrive.

What did this mean for her brother? And, more importantly, what did this mean for the kingdom? If Daenerys was already making rash decisions that were going to scare away her support, perhaps Northern independance wasn’t so far a dream.

Sansa looked at Tyrion and found him watching her in warning. She knew that he knew what she was thinking and she felt guilty for her ambition. This was a sad time and today she would be sad. But, tomorrow and in the next few days, she would start thinking of how she would secure her kingdom.


	18. Chapter 18

Sansa’s hands shook as she thought about where she was headed. Tyrion and Bronn had disappeared into an inn about an hour ago, leaving Sansa in the tent, where she wanted to rest. Tyrion had kissed her goodbye and Bronn had made gagging noises, as though they had not heard him with Alys Karstark in his tent last night. As soon as they had left, Sansa had darted out of her tent and into town, taking a longer route to avoid Tyrion and Bronn’s chosen inn.

The little town they had stopped by, on their journey to King’s Landing, was built up enough that they had their own midwife, rather than a woman who travelled from nearby towns to help, though they did not have a maester. And Sansa had left Winterfell’s maester at Winterfell, with Bran, while she and Tyrion, and their little court, travelled down to King’s Landing, for the official coronation of Queen Daenerys and King Jon of Westeros.

The midwife had not been difficult to find. Sansa had asked at the market and they had known immediately. Sansa knocked at the door. She thought that it might have been open but she didn’t want to be rude.

A woman, large and homely, came to the door almost immediately. She groaned at the sight of Sansa. “Who is it? Daenie or Phylea?” Sansa only blinked. “Come on, lass, I’ll get my things if you just tell me who’s giving birth.”

“Oh, no,” Sansa stammered. The midwife quirked an eyebrow. “I actually wondered if you would be able to tell me if I’m pregnant.”

Narrowing her eyes, the midwife said, “Alright, lass. I’d say you were from the big house only you’ve got a posh Northern accent rather than posh Crownlands.” The big house, Sansa assumed, was the Darneland home at the top of the hill, not really a big house in comparison to many, but big when compared to the houses in the village. “Come in, come in, let’s have a look at you.”

There was no vestibule. The first room was the only room, a small room that held a chaise longue, a kitchen and a table. In the corner, there was a circular staircase, leading up to what Sansa assumed was a bedroom. “Not fancy like your place?” the midwife sneered.

“Sorry,” Sansa said awkwardly.

The midwife tutted. “Sit on the sofa, there, lass,” she said, nodding at the chaise longue. Sansa nodded and sat down, wondering what made it a sofa rather than a chaise longue. She supposed it had two arms like an armchair. She could see the benefits of that. There was nothing worse than being on the armless end of a chaise longue. “Now, when was your last moonblood?”

“Six weeks ago,” Sansa said hurriedly. The midwife whistled.

“Well, I’d say you’re pregnant. Any sickness?”

Sansa nodded. “But we did come down by boat,” she added. The midwife nodded slowly.

“Okay, what about your teats? Are they sore?” Sansa nodded. “And any odd cravings?”

“I’ve gone off lemon cakes,” Sansa blurted. The midwife smirked.

“That must have been difficult for you, lass,” she said. Sansa pursed her lips at the disrespect. If she had not been so desperate to know, she might have left. “Right, well, I think you’re pregnant, but not far. Six weeks is quite early. I assume this is your first from your lovely figure, so I want to warn you that many women lose their babies before three months gone.”

Sansa nodded, biting her lip. “Is there anything I shouldn’t be doing?”

“Past eight months, don’t ride, and don’t ride at all if you’re not confident. Don’t eat fish and don’t take any moontea. It’s bad for the babe.”

Sansa had not been taking it anyway but she mentally noted it. In the past, she had used it to sleep easier. “And can I lie with my husband?” she asked quietly.

The midwife smirked. “You can, lass, as much as you’d like.”

Blushing, Sansa stood and pulled her purse from her side. She pulled out three gold coins and handed them to the obviously shocked woman. “Thank you for your help.”

The woman seemed too shocked to move, so Sansa left the coins on the side of the sofa and saw herself out, not stopping until she had been walking for five minutes and was outside Tyrion’s inn. Grinning, she placed her hand on her stomach. A baby. They were having a baby.

Entering the inn, Sansa was less than impressed by the sight of a woman on Bronn’s lap and another sitting very close to Tyrion, stroking his hand. She strode over and quirked a brow at her surprised husband. “Sansa,” he cried and she thought she heard relief in his voice. Close up, she could see his discomfort with the whore next to him.

“My husband has no need of whores, thank you,” Sansa said, pursing her lips at the blonde woman who walked off in a huff. Shooting a disappointed look at Bronn, Sansa shoved Tyrion along the seat so that she could sit next to him. A barmaid brought over an ale for her that she sipped and then abandoned.

“What are you doing here, Sansa?” Tyrion asked.

“Saving you from whores, apparently,” she said, amused. Tyrion rolled his eyes and Sansa grinned. “I need to tell you something.” Tyrion nodded at her to continue and Sansa decided she would like to tell her child that she told his father about him in an inn. It would be a funny story for him. She bent down to Tyrion’s ear and said, “I’m pregnant.”

Tyrion’s gasp and the startled look on his face made Sansa happier than she had imagined. A smile spread across his face. “Truly?”

“No, I’m lying,” Sansa said dryly. Tyrion gave her an unamused look and, letting out an exasperated laugh, Sansa said, “Yes, Tyrion, truly.”

Tyrion let out a little laugh of joy, grabbing her hand and placing a smacking kiss on it. “Barmaid!” he called and the barmaid came over. “Another for everyone here and the very best bottle of red wine that you have for myself and my wife.”

Bronn pulled his face away from the teats of the whore on his lap. “What’s going on?” he asked curiously.

“Sansa is pregnant,” Tyrion said in a stage whisper. Gasping, Sansa hit her husband’s chest.

“Well, at least we know you’re not shooting blanks,” was Bronn’s only comment before he returned his attention to his whore.

The barmaid arrived with the wine and poured Sansa and Tyrion a glass each. Tyrion raised his own up to Sansa. “To our baby and my wonderful wife who is carrying it,” he said.

Smiling, Sansa returned, “To our baby and my wonderful husband who put it there!” Tyrion laughed aloud and drank deeply from his goblet. They were days away from King’s Landing and, already, their trip had been made. This news was even more exciting than the prospect of seeing Jaime and Brienne and, most importantly, Joanna. Sansa and Tyrion were going to be a family, filled with love.

Glancing at her husband, Sansa felt her heart fill to bursting. He had been the right choice, all those months ago.

XXX

Jaime and Brienne arrived into the Red Keep with much trepidation. Jaime had so many terrible memories there. It was a difficult place to be. It didn’t feel so long since Addam had killed Cersei, right in front of their eyes, nor even since he was living here, under Cersei’s thumb. Two years had not even passed since then.

But many events had passed. Jaime and Brienne could hardly deny that things were going well in the Westerlands since Cersei’s fall. Crops were growing, people were working and bringing money into the economy and children were being born every day. The Westerlands were becoming an extremely prosperous area of Westeros. Jaime was sure that it had started when Joanna was born, five months ago, but it was more likely due to the lack of money-stealing from the Westerlands.

For years, all of the Westerlands’ money had gone straight to the crown. Now, though the crown itself was struggling, they had to pay a set amount of money and the rest was allowed to be invested into their own area. Jaime and Brienne had even sent some to the North, to help the difficult situation there, because the Westerlands were recovering so well.

There were certainly problems, like the empty gold mines and some resentment that the Lannisters had lost their control over the crown, but it was minor. The iron mines were being opened up fully for the first time since before Jaime’s grandfather’s time and they were one of the only areas of Westeros whose crops had come in almost fully. Every kingdom was buying their food.

And, now, they were in King’s Landing, for the coronation, together with their daughter, representing the prosperity of the Westerlands. For the first time, Jaime was really and truly proud of his birthplace.

The ride here with Joanna had not been as easy as riding alone. Some of the time, she sat with her nanny in the carriage, or strapped to Brienne or Jaime’s chests while they rode, because she was teething and fussy and her nanny was just not acceptable when she could have her parents, according to her little five-month-old mind. Jaime didn’t mind riding with her, though he was aware of every step of the horse, aware that if he fell, he would seriously injure his beautiful child.

And she was so beautiful. Jaime loved Joanna more than he could have possibly imagined. She was everything he had ever wanted. She was his delight. Returning to the castle after being out all day to find his wife and his daughter waiting for him was only comparable to spending the day with his daughter and greeting his wife at the door, after she had been out, looking after the people.

They made the perfect team, all three of them, and the people actually cheered for them when they went by. The people of Lannisport loved Joanna. They sent gifts for her birth. When they visited the city, they received more things, for free, just because they wanted Joanna to have their things. Jaime understood the way they felt. Joanna was perfection. He wanted to give her the world too.

“Jaime!”

The sound of his brother approaching was the icing on the cake. He could ignore the horrible surrounding as long as he had his family around him: his wife, his daughter, his brother and his goodsister. His relationship with Sansa was hit and miss for obvious reasons but he definitely saw a smile on her face when she saw him.

Jaime sank to the ground to embrace his brother and then stood again to give Sansa an awkward hug that he was not sure was wanted nor appreciated. But she was a member of his family now.

“Brienne has just gone to find a chamberpot-” Jaime started but cut himself off when Brienne returned, Joanna in her arms. “And here she is!”

“Brienne!” Sansa cried and then the two of them were embracing, Joanna giggling between them, for once smiling and not crying because of her teeth. The second Brienne pulled away, Sansa stole Joanna into her arms to cuddle her. “Oh, she’s beautiful. Tyrion, come here,” she said, though she didn’t take her eyes off Joanna. Jaime watched as Sansa bobbed down and passed Tyrion his niece.

Brienne came close to Jaime, taking his hand in hers. He gave her an inquisitive look and she shook her head. Jaime nearly grinned but received a pinch on the hand from his wife. Keeping his face straight, he turned to his brother, who was staring at Joanna as though she were the most precious thing on earth, which, of course, she was. Jaime noticed the look that Sansa and Tyrion were sharing and wondered how long it would be before they were having one themselves.

Jaime wondered whether he would beat them there for a second time. He received another pinch on the back of his hand, as though his wife could read his mind. It wouldn’t surprise him. If anyone could, it would be Brienne.

A few moments later, when Sansa finally, reluctantly, returned Joanna to Brienne’s arms, they made their way to the main hall, where they had been asked to present themselves as soon as they arrived. The Red Keep was different from how Jaime remembered it. Most of the tapestries had come down and there were no portraits that he could see. There used to be a portrait of Cersei and Robert on every wall, or of one of the children. Now, the walls were plain. Jaime supposed that Daenerys and Jon had more important things on their minds than the decor of the palace.

The great hall itself was well-decorated. There was a Targaryen banner at the back of the hall, behind the twin thrones. Jaime was impressed by how quickly they had replaced the Iron Throne with two matching silver thrones. It made for a much less intimidating throne room, almost unrecognisable from the one where Jaime had killed the Mad King and served Robert - Cersei - for years. It was a good change.

Whatever had been going on stopped as they entered, the room going silent as Daenerys rose from her throne, quickly followed by Jon. She approached them and took Sansa and Brienne into her arms first, while Jon shook Jaime and Tyrion’s hands. “It is truly wonderful to see you here,” Daenerys said. Her voice carried across the throne room. “And this must be Joanna,” she said more quietly. Jaime smiled when Daenerys took Joanna’s hand into hers, as though she were shaking it. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Joanna. Named for your mother?” Daenerys said, directing it at Jaime.

Jaime knew that this was an important moment, the first time in the eyes of the public that Daenerys was publically speaking with Jaime, essentially pardoning him for the second time. “Yes, my mother.”

“What a precious gift for her,” Daenerys said with a kind smile. Jaime was reminded of the reason that the people had made her queen. “Welcome to court,” she said, inclining her head to Jaime.

“Thank you, your grace,” Jaime said, bowing his head deeper than Daenerys had. Brienne reached for Jaime’s hand and took it, as Daenerys and Jon returned to their thrones and Brienne, Jaime, Sansa, Tyrion and Joanna became just five more members of the crowd who had come for an audience with the new king and queen.

XXX

The day of the coronation dawned brightly. It was a symbolic ceremony, not really officially bringing more than Daenerys and Jon living in the Red Keep brought. But it was important, as important as the march through King’s Landing on the day that they had won the war, to show the public that they were here, that this was their city, and that they were going nowhere.

Brienne dressed herself in a different version of the pants-dress that she wore to their wedding. “You look fantastic,” Jaime growled. Brienne rolled her eyes and passed Joanna to Jaime.

“Head out of the gutter, Lannister. I need to put my shoes on.”

Jaime waggled his eyebrows at his daughter and wandered over to the door. “Are you excited to watch the queen, Joanna?” Jaime asked.

Joanna clapped her chubby little hands together and Jaime did a quiet sort of cheer. He looked away from Joanna to find his wife watching him with interest.

“You look good,” she said. “Those breeches are very tight.”

“They could be tighter,” Jaime said with a wink. Brienne rolled her eyes. “Do you think I’ll be beating off all the women at the coronation?”

Brienne pursed her lips, raising her eyebrows. “Not that you’d want that, of course,” Brienne said.

Jaime laughed and got close to his wife, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Of course not.” Brienne hummed at him and he kissed her again, on the lips this time. “I have all the girls I want right here,” he said, giving Joanna’s cheek one final kiss. “Maybe I’m wearing tight breeches because I want you to think I look good, just like you’re wearing that dress.”

“Or maybe you’re wearing tight breeches because this is the first time you’ve not been stressed in twenty years and you’re getting fat.”

Jaime gasped in horror, stepping away from his wife. “What are you saying, wench?”

Brienne chuckled. “Nothing, I love you.”

Jaime narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I love you too, even if you get fat.” Brienne patted his stomach on the way to the door and Jaime could only laugh. “When you get fat,” Jaime added under his breath and received an amused glare from his wife as she opened the door and headed out.

They met Sansa and Tyrion along the corridor, smiling at each other over something. “You two look mushy,” Jaime commented as they reached them. Turning to his wife, he said, “You used to look at me like that. Now you just think I’m fat.” Brienne didn’t look exasperated, only amused.

“You are just lying around all day, eating. The only exercise you’re getting is fucking your wife,” Tyrion commented crudely. That made Brienne’s face exasperated.

“That’s not true! I’m running the knight training school.” Brienne scoffed and Jaime turned to look at her, arching an eyebrow. “What?”

“You stand around giving criticism and witty comments.”

Sansa barked out a laugh. “That sounds like Jaime.” Jaime shot her a glare.

“Well, Joanna, I think we will go to this coronation alone,” Jaime said to his daughter and started walking away, ignoring the laughter that came from behind him.

They caught up to him, Brienne wrapping an arm around Jaime’s waist and kissing his cheek. Jaime laughed and shifted Joanna in his arms. It was not easy holding her with only one hand and it had taken some time to not feel as though he were going to drop her at any moment.

The four of them took one carriage to the Sept, where Jon had promised them good seats to see the coronation, even Joanna, who Brienne was slightly worried about crying all the way through the ceremony. Jaime didn’t think Daenerys would take it as a personal insult if she did. She had turned into the kind, beautous queen rather than the war commander. All good monarchs were both, in Jaime’s opinion. And, thus far, he had not seen anything particularly Mad King from her, though he didn’t think he’d ever stop looking.

They reached the sept after a while. There was a lot of traffic because of the people lining the streets ready to see Jon and Daenerys return to the Red Keep afterwards, but they arrived before most people and were escorted to their seats, in pride of place. Varys sat next to them.

“Ah, Lady Sansa,” Varys greeted. Brienne and Jaime shared a look at the lack of greeting to them, Brienne laughing. Jaime settled Joanna on his lap and then sneaked a hand across to caress Brienne’s stomach, half-listening to Varys’ conversation, supplying Sansa with compliments and hinting about whether or not she might be pregnant mixed in with general comments about the North. Jaime wondered whether Varys knew something that he did not.

Brienne batted Jaime’s hand away and Jaime shared a little smile with her. He was about to open his mouth to speak when the orchestra started up to announce the queen’s arrival. Jaime glanced down to see that Joanna was drifting away on his knee. He was glad - she might miss the coronation but she wouldn’t spend the whole time crying, at least.

Daenerys came in first, looking respendent. Jaime glanced to the side to see Sansa watching her carefully. He furrowed his brow slightly and then turned his head back to see Jon enter, looking uncomfortable with the display of power and wealth. Jaime briefly wondered how he would have felt if he had claimed the throne, all those years ago. He never would have met and loved Brienne. He would have been like Jon, wondering what on earth he was doing there, except without a wife who loved him. Jaime nearly shuddered from the thought.

The coronation went off without a hitch. Jaime felt only the slightest misapprehension as the crown was placed on Dany’s head, remembering with a jolt the mad look in her father’s eyes after he saw fire. Jaime was sure that Dany did not share that mad proclivity. If she did, Jaime hoped that Jon would tell Sansa if that happened. And then Sansa would tell Brienne and then she would tell Jaime - maybe, that was where the link was tenuous because Brienne betraying Sansa was unlikely - and then Jaime would do - he would do something.

Maybe he’d speak to Arya. If it came to it, he’d talk to Arya. He’d talk to a lot of people. But it was not going to come to it. Because Daenerys, with Jon by her side, was going to do good things and she was not her father.

Everything was going to be fine and Jaime trusted it. They were in peace. He was peaceful - he was putting on weight! Everything was good. He hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for everyone who is supporting this story!
> 
> Definitely no thank you to the trolls who are clogging up my comments section and just generally making me feel shit - thanks so much for spending your quarantine time so shitly. I cannot tell you how much you are making me hate Daenerys with your comments. This is fanFICTION so please calm down. Yes, I've tagged things wrong. I am genuinely sorry but they were honest mistakes from someone who is used to the formatting of fanfiction.net where I don't have to faff with things like that. 
> 
> I appreciate those Dany stans who have CONSTRUCTIVELY said that I tagged wrong and that they are disappointed, without the snarky digs and passive aggression - it's not necessary and really is a testament to the negative, perfectionist world we live in. The constructive criticism is helpful and I really do appreciate help with tags, but not if you're just complaining at me. Say something nice, tell me something to help and then move on.
> 
> Genuine thanks to those who have commented more recently to complain about the trolls - your comments were much appreciated and genuinely helped me to start writing again!
> 
> I hope you're all staying safe and that my stories can bring you a bit of peace in these traumatic times. Much love x


	19. Chapter 19

Tyrion stormed into his chambers, slamming the door behind him. He wasn’t sure whether he ought to be grateful or more irritated that his wife wasn’t here, where he wanted her. He needed to speak with her, urgently, but, in this state, perhaps it was for the best that he stayed away from her.

Pacing angrily, Tyrion began to feel cramps starting in his legs, as though the day had not already been emotionally difficult enough. He clambered up onto the bed that he shared with his wife and lay down against the pillow, smelling the rose oil that Sansa used in her hair. He exhaled.

Two days ago, he had left for a trip out of King’s Landing, to visit a town where Queen Daenerys had heard of issues. Tyrion had been happy to leave, but the queen had demanded that he leave quickly and he had not even been able to speak with his wife, much less Jon. He had gone to the town, which was presided over by a family whose merchant wealth had brought them power, and who had notoriously been the first Crownlanders to oppose the Mad King.

And, now, the town was rebelling against Daenerys. Tyrion had not fully understood what had happened until he had arrived. When Jon had written to him about Daenerys taking retribution from the families, he had not explained the situation fully. Jon had focussed on Missandei’s death and his wife’s grief, understandably. He had mentioned Grey Worm’s all-consuming, and completely comprehendible, anger. He had not mentioned the slaughter of the oldest son of five anti-Targaryen families and the taking of their family homes, leaving them homeless and mainly without money.

If the whole family had certainly betrayed Daenerys in a tangible way, then Tyrion would have believed that the punishment was well warranted. One person from the family died, rather than all of them, and they had their power stripped away, a completely reasonable punishment for traitors and far less than they would have received under Robert.

But Robert had always conducted a trial. Always. It had been part of what had kept the continent in a good sense of justice for so long, even with an evil bitch and a lazy whoremonger at its head.

Daenerys was led by emotion. This action was led by emotion and, if word of it got out across the kingdom, there would be uproar, because there was no tangible evidence that these anti-Targaryenist families had anything to do with Missandei’s death, although it was possible.

“Tyrion!” he heard from the door and Tyrion had to smile at the pure joy that he heard in his wife’s voice. “You’re back,” she cried as she jumped onto the bed. Tyrion raised his brows at her, though he did not lift his head from the pillow.

“I’m sorry I left so swiftly. The Queen needed me to go and sort some things out.”

Sansa lay down next to him, close, her body pressing against his. Tyrion was reminded that he had not fucked his wife in days. “What sort of things?”

Tyrion sighed. “Retribution was taken after Missandei’s death.” Sansa furrowed her brow. “One dead from five anti-Targaryenist families and properties confiscated. The town that belonged to one of these families is not happy.”

“I suppose she had a right to respond,” Sansa said with uncertainty. Tyrion groaned.

“They had a right to a trial.”

“Like Samwell Tarly’s brother and father,” his wife said quietly.

“I know, Sansa,” Tyrion snapped and he felt Sansa’s warmth leave his side. Sighing, he extended his hand to her again and pulled her back close. “I’m sorry, my dear, my body is protesting the riding and my mind is protesting the challenges.”

Sansa nodded, her chin hitting his shoulder softly. “It’s okay. What are you going to do?”

Tyrion sighed. “I don’t know, Sansa. I’m not her Hand anymore and her new Hand hasn’t been announced. Daenerys has sent Varys over to Essos on a diplomatic mission, so I can’t ask his advice.”

“I could speak to Jon,” Sansa said quietly. Tyrion turned his head to meet her eyes.

“Not now, though.” Sansa shook her head, snuggling into his body. Tyrion caressed her as yet flat stomach.

“Not now.”

XXX

When Sansa did finally arrive at Jon’s solar, she steeled herself before knocking. There was no possible way that this conversation could go well, but she needed to do this, if not for herself, then for Tyrion. While her husband was not the Hand of the Queen any longer, he still had a vested interest in her success and the stories of what she had done in response to Missandei’s death were horrifying.

Missandei’s death itself was horrifying. Sansa was ashamed of her response when she had heard. Rather than focus on Missandei, she had thought of how the Queen would respond and the likelihood of getting independence for the North, for her people. While she would never apologise for wanting the North to be ruled by Winterfell and not King’s Landing, who no more understood the ways of the North as they did those of Dorne, she had reacted poorly. When had she become so cold and calculating? She hadn’t told Tyrion. She did not need to see the disgust in his eyes.

Jon answered the door quickly. Sansa saw Davos sitting behind him and decided that she didn’t necessarily mind that. From the looks on their faces, they were debating something fiercely and perhaps Davos would be on Sansa’s side and help Jon to see reason. The Seven knew that Jon was likely to just accuse Sansa of being biased because of her dislike of his wife. But Sansa knew that it wasn’t just that, not when Tyrion could see it too.

Not waiting for Jon to suggest she return at a later time, Sansa walked into the chambers, pushing past Jon’s arm. She took a seat beside Davos at the table and Jon, sighing, joined them on the other side. “I need to talk to you,” Sansa said quietly but intensely. She did not want to shout, nor argue, but she knew it was likely. The least she could do was start calmly.

Jon scowled. “I suppose you’re here to tell me that my wife is going mad.”

Sansa blinked and then glanced towards Davos who looked rather abashed. Sighing, Sansa said, “Jon, you must see that her response was irrational and based in anger rather than justice.”

“She executed people who didn’t support her. She didn’t murder mothers or children!” Jon responded.

Sansa swallowed her immediate response. “She executed people who didn’t support her, without a trial. Jon, without a trial, it cannot be a righteous execution. When the Mad King killed our grandfather and uncle without a trial for not supporting him, was that right too?” Davos cleared his throat.

Jon scoffed. “That was different.”

Sansa shook her head. “Why? Because he did it in an awful, painful way? Yes, it was different in terms of his bloodthirst but the morals remain the same.”

Jon shook his head. “Sansa, you are saying this out of a bias. You don’t like her and you hate that your husband prefers her to you.”

Sansa flinched. She hated that Jon could read her so well, could see how she felt about Tyrion’s support of Daenerys. But that was not why she was here now. “Tyrion was the one who asked me to come, Jon,” Sansa said as softly as she could. “I know that you think I hate Daenerys. I think she has done lots of good things but there are some worryingly bad things interspersed with those. I’m not saying we should throw her off the throne. I’m asking that you reign alongside her, rather than from behind her.”

Jon met her eyes. “I am reigning, Sansa. I am doing lots of things behind the scenes. I can’t control her every action! Her actions don’t need controlling! She is Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and what you are saying is treason.”

Sansa nodded. “And I trust you as my brother to protect me by not sharing that. Jon, it is unfair to place this burden upon you but you must ensure the safety of the realms.”

“Queen Daenerys is ensuring the safety of the realms. If there were families that opposed you as Lady of Winterfell, you would have done no different. You wanted to take the houses away from those who had fought against us!”

Sansa’s eyes widened. “Jon, I wanted to take houses away from those who had fought against us, yes. I wanted to take their estates and their power, not their lives, and I wanted to do that because they had taken up arms against us. The Queen did not wait for proof. She had them executed!”

Jon’s face was hard. “I don’t know if it was Daenerys’ order or if it was Grey Worm’s vengeance that had them killed, but it is not for you to question, Sansa. She is your queen and I am your king. I will forgive your treason this once because you are my sister but not again, Sansa.”

His jaw was set and Sansa wanted to speak again, to change his mind, to make him see. Instead, she closed her mouth and stood up. Davos stood beside her. “Jon, I always want what is best for you, and what is best for the Seven Kingdoms. I am loyal to the realm above all.”

With one last look at her straight-faced brother, Sansa left the room, Davos hot on her heels.

XXX

Daenerys left the Grand Maester’s office with shaky steps. Her handmaidens had been right. She hardly kept track of her cycles herself, when her ladies did it. They kept track of everything, including how sick she was, how much she flinched when they put on her corsets and how little she was eating of her favourite foods.

Dany had dismissed them when they had told her, telling them that it was because of the stress of being a new monarch, of the grief of Missandei’s death, a loss that still burned in her chest like wildfire. But she had accepted their wisdom and gone to the Grand Maester, who had proceeded to confirm her pregnancy.

It did not make any sense. The witch had said she would never bear a child and she had believed that, so firmly. She had never conceived with Daario, had been with Jon for months without conceiving. Was it possible that the witch had been wrong, though? Or would she help this child grow and live, only for it to wither and die inside her?

Her mind froze with fear, her body halting immediately and backing up against the wall of the Red Keep. “Meesa?” one of her handmaidens said, reaching out for her hand. Daenerys grasped it tightly, looking deep into her swirling brown eyes.

“I can’t lose this baby,” she said desperately. Her handmaidens all gasped at the terrible utterance.

“Meesa, you must never talk of that. You curse your baby,” another of them said. Daenerys’ eyes widened and she nodded hurriedly.

“You will all tell me how to protect it,” she stated and her voice broke as she did. “I will do everything I can to protect this baby.”

XXX

Sansa paused outside of her chambers, pressing the palms of her hands to her forehead. The last thing she needed was to shout at Tyrion but it was what she wanted to do. She had spoken with Davos and, rather than alleviate her fears, it had only riled her up more, to hear how Jon refused to hear a bad word against Daenerys.

She didn’t know what to do. It was a terrible situation to be in. If Daenerys was becoming her father, then it wasn’t necessarily her fault. Sansa was sure she was not an evil person, though she was ambitious, like Sansa herself. Daenerys had made some poor choices in her ambition but everyone made mistakes. King Robert had made mistakes, not to mention Joffrey and Cersei.

But the signs had been there earlier and Tyrion had carried on supporting her. Sansa blinked away tears. She had to stop concentrating on Tyrion and their future and think about the actual situation that they currently faced. She was so caught up in anger at Tyrion and desperate to know that, if it came down to it, he would choose her.

Perhaps it was wrong that she didn’t know for certain. Perhaps it was her own insecurities. But she loved him. She loved him and his loyalties to Daenerys always seemed so resolute. The last thing she wanted was to ask him to choose her and anger him enough to leave her. And their baby.

Inhaling deeply, Sansa reminded herself that Tyrion would never leave her. She was pregnant with his child. His loyalties would surely be to his child, above all.

And she didn’t want to shout at him, so she would go to the Godswood. Nodding, Sansa turned. The Godswood would bring her peace. She would pray and be alone.

XXX

Arya and Gendry arrived at Brienne and Jaime’s chambers. Grinning at her husband, Arya knocked with a jaunty tune. Jaime answered the door, an amused look on his face and a beautiful baby in his arms. “Joanna,” Arya cooed, taking the girl from Jaime’s arms before she even stepped in. Jaime blinked and leaned over to shake Gendry’s hand and invite him in.

Arya found Brienne sitting on the couch, with Sansa next to her, looking rather upset. She glanced at Joanna as though the baby girl had the answers to why Sansa was there and not with her own husband.

“Hello,” Brienne said, looking up from Sansa. Arya beamed and took Joanna’s pudgy hand in her own, distracting by the little girl. “What are you doing here?”

Arya scowled. “Not seen me in months and this is how you respond,” she said with raised eyebrows. Brienne pursed her lips but Arya thought she wanted to smile. “I hadn’t even met this gorgeous girl yet.”

“I’m sorry, Arya,” Brienne said seriously. “I am very pleased to see that you are well.” Arya smiled.

“You too. I like your baby.”

Gendry snorted behind her. He came up and wrapped an arm around her waist, using his other hand to stroke Joanna’s hand. “We should get ourselves one of these,” Arya suggested to her husband seriously, shaking Joanna’s hand at him. Gendry’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped.

Jaime laughed, approaching too. “Can I get you both some wine?” They both agreed and finally took their seats, opposite Brienne and Sansa, who had yet to say anything about why her face was pale and her countenance drawn. Arya accepted the wine from Jaime and watched as he perched on the end of the sofa, stroking the back of his wife’s neck with his one hand.

“I’m pregnant,” came from Sansa’s mouth, hoarsely, a few moments later. Arya’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped, a twinge of jealousy prickling in her stomach. She ignored it, reminding herself of her vow to enjoy a few years of marriage with Gendry.

“Congratulations,” Brienne told her, stroking her hand, but Arya noticed that Brienne’s whole heart was not in her congratulations and she wondered, again, what Brienne and Sansa had been talking about before Arya and Gendry arrived.

Sansa began to sob. Arya shoved her goblet of wine into her husband’s hand, placing Joanna on the seat, and fell to her knees in front of her sister, stroking her knee. “What’s going on, Sansa?” she asked, her eyes severe.

Sansa bit her lip. “What if Tyrion cares more about his loyalty to Daenerys than to us?”

Arya had heard that women got stupid when they were pregnant but here was the proof. She snorted, earning herself a glare from Sansa and a shocked look from Brienne. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sansa.”

“This is why I came to Brienne,” Sansa said, shoving Arya’s hand from her knee. Rolling her eyes, Arya put her hand back.

“Tyrion loves you,” Arya said earnestly.

Sansa scoffed. “Then why won’t he tell me that?”

“Have you told him?” Arya countered. Sansa’s eyes fell to her lap.

Jaime sighed from his position. “Sansa, he will be afraid that you aren’t going to say it back. His fear when he married you was that he would fall in love with you but you wouldn’t love him back.” Arya’s eyebrows shot up her face. Sansa met Jaime’s eyes and Jaime nodded. “You know about Tysha and Shae. Don’t expect him to open up to you if you’ve not opened up to him.”

Arya didn’t know what those names meant but she didn’t need to. She watched her sister’s eyes clear. “I didn’t think about that,” Sansa said quietly. Jaime gave her a grim smile. “I was so caught up in how I was feeling that I didn’t think about his insecurities.”

Jaime shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s a big boy.” Sansa gave him a withering look. “How pregnant are you?” Jaime asked, nodding at her stomach. Arya turned her eyes back to Sansa.

“I’m not sure. Two or three months, the midwife thought.”

Arya grinned. “Awesome.”

There was something knowing behind Jaime’s smirk. “Awesome indeed.”

XXX

“I’m worried about Sansa,” Brienne said when she was sitting in between Jaime’s legs, receiving a one-handed massage. Jaime hummed behind her, working a knot in between her shoulder blades.

“I’m more worried about what she said about Daenerys.” Brienne sighed heavily and Jaime wondered whether she would try and involve herself to help Sansa. Jaime hoped not. 

“Do you think she is becoming her father?” Brienne asked quietly.

Jaime expelled air from his mouth, bending to press a kiss to his wife’s shoulder. “I don’t know, Brienne. Her father was- he was worse than this.” Brienne nodded. “But it started gradually with him and, if we’d noticed then, perhaps so many people wouldn’t have had to die.”

Jaime could see the Mad King’s eyes flashing as fire burned, could hear Daenerys’ mother’s screams as he raped her. “Maybe you should go back to Casterly Rock,” Jaime suggested, curling his hand around to her stomach. Brienne leaned back against him, her head falling back onto his shoulder. She covered his hand with her own. “You could take Joanna with you.”

“And leave you here, Jaime? Never,” she swore.

“I have to stay to help Sansa and Tyrion. We can’t all leave.”

Brienne nodded resolutely. “You’re right. None of us can leave,” she stated, emphasising the none. Jaime tightened his hand against Brienne’s as-yet flat stomach. He would bow to her desires for now. If the situation deteriorated, she would have to leave, to protect their growing family.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi so I kind of don't want to carry on with this story except that I want it to be finished if that makes sense? Comment moderation is on and I'm not even sure I'm going to read comments coz they make me feel physically sick with anxiety. If you like Dany, you won't like this. I've told you. It's in the tags. I'm sure I'll still receive hate even so. This is my story. Yes, there are bits that are similar to D+D. I'm sorry. It's the story I wrote. I get that it's not perfect and there are bits that even I don't like but this is where we are and I just want it to be finished. I would really appreciate it if you didn't leave me the passive aggressive hate that I asked people not to comment last time but they still did. There is a difference between criticism and being passive aggressive - if you're not sure on the difference, just browse through my comments.
> 
> I really appreciate the kind comments and I'm sorry if you think that I'm being an overly soft snowflake who can't take criticism - I can but, if you received the same amount of general Dany stan hatred that I get, you would feel the same. For example, I had LOADS of comments last update saying that it was disgusting that I was going to make Dany miscarry, that I was a terrible person for not tagging it. It irritated me so much that I have tagged no miscarriage - PSA: women who have lost a child worry about losing another one but it does not mean that they are going to.
> 
> So thanks to everyone who is kind, screw you to everyone who is not.
> 
> Now, I hope that has diverted the trolls (and probably some people who think that I'm a terrible person now - if you want to understand, read my comments and imagine how I feel, especially since I also have the general anxiety over COVID). Please enjoy my story, if you can. If you already know you're not going to, don't bother reading.
> 
> Thank you!

Jaime laughed a bit drunkenly as he and Tyrion stumbled back into Jaime’s chambers, the sun outside already having wished the world goodnight. Though Tyrion had taken Jaime off at lunch time for a few hours of brotherly time, their day had been continually prolonged, as they had drunk more and more ale and Tyrion had wanted to introduce Jaime to more and more of his favourite alehouses.

Upon entering Jaime’s chambers, the two stumbled, Tyrion falling into Jaime’s back as they discovered their wives, watching them amusedly, Joanna sitting merrily on Sansa’s lap. “Good afternoon,” Brienne said, eyebrows arched.

Jaime bit his lip to contain his laughter. “It’s evening, sweet. Have you been drinking?” Jaime slurred.

“No, but you have,” she said and Jaime glanced down at Tyrion before they both burst out in laughter. Brienne pursed her lips and Jaime approached, his legs and arms not quite working as they should. He reached the chaise longue where his lovely wife was sitting and lay down, his head burrowing into her lap and his arms winding around her waist.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke to her legs. He glanced up in time to see her share a long-suffering look with Sansa. Chuckling, Jaime sat up and lay his head against her shoulder instead. “Are you okay?”

Brienne tutted. “Sansa and I were just discussing baby names.” Jaime’s eyes widened.

“But why would we need a baby name?” he said dramatically, glancing at Sansa and Tyrion, who were now sharing one chair, to determine whether or not Brienne had just let the secret out. She was very clumsy with secrets, clearly. Perhaps he would not include her in the secret, next time they found out they were having a baby.

“I’ve told Sansa, Jaime,” Brienne said, her voice amused. Jaime sat up suddenly, scowling at her. 

“What happened to keeping it a secret?”

“Keeping what a secret?” Tyrion slurred, his head bouncing up and down on Sansa’s shoulder. Jaime rolled his eyes.

“And Cersei called me the stupidest Lannister. Brienne is pregnant, Tyrion.”

Tyrion gasped. “Sansa is too!”

Jaime narrowed his eyes. “Yes, we know. She told us.”

Tyrion turned to his wife, the same betrayal in his eyes that Jaime had felt a moment ago, upon discovering that Brienne had told Sansa about the baby without him. “You told them?” he said in despair. Jaime chuckled, burrowing his face into Brienne’s neck. She swatted him away and Jaime pouted. “This means we’re having a baby at the same time, Jaime! Like twins!”

Jaime’s eyes widened. “You’re right!”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Brienne said but Jaime could hear that she was finding them funny. “Sansa, do you want to give me my child back and take yours to bed?”

“That means take yourself to bed,” Tyrion said wisely to his wife. “Because your child is inside you.”

Sansa glanced down at her husband as she stood and passed Joanna back to Brienne. “She’s talking about you, Tyrion.”

Tyrion gasped as he stood up, putting his hands on his hips. “Because I’m a dwarf? I’ll have you know, Brienne, that that is very insulting. Jaime, can you believe your wife is saying this to me?”

“That is very rude, Brienne,” Jaime told her and was very disconcerted when she laughed. Sansa was laughing too, which was very confusing for Jaime. Then he watched his brother and goodsister leave, watching Brienne wave at them. Jaime stole Joanna from his wife and leaned back on the sofa, grabbing her hands and making her do funny things, like clap and be a star. “Where are Tyrion and Sansa going? Are they going to get more wine?”

Brienne snorted, standing up. She had very long legs. “No, Jaime, love, I think you’ve had enough wine.” Jaime ignored her, moving his eyes along the curves of her legs. They were very long. He wondered if his legs were as long. Brienne tutted at him and stole his daughter from his very hands. Jaime glared at her, watching with delayed vision as she took Joanna to the little adjoining room that held her little cot. Brienne returned, with her lovely legs, moments later.

“Is she lonely?” Jaime asked, glancing at the door. “Maybe I should sleep in there with her. I don’t want her to be lonely.”

Brienne gave him a look that had Jaime’s pants stirring. “I’ll be sending in there to sleep in a moment, Jaime Lannister. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you this drunk.”

Jaime chuckled, stumbling as he stood up and approached her. “You wouldn’t want me in another room, Brienne,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and joining his hand with his stump on the other side. “You’d miss me too much.” He placed a kiss like a butterfly on her neck and then repeated it.

“I’m not sure you’re up to much right now, Jaime.” Jaime gasped in horror. His wife thought he had had too much ale to satisfy her. He was very happy to prove her wrong. With a chuckle, he moved his arms from her waist to under her legs and suddenly she was in his arms. He’d been very surprised to discover he could pick her up a few weeks ago. She was taller than him but he was super strong. He was Jaime fucking Lannister.

She was telling him that he was going to drop her but he wasn’t - and he didn’t, not until they were by the side of the bed at least. And then he threw her down, leaving her in a lovely position with her legs spread, though the long, curvy, muscly limbs were still covered by her breeches. “Still think I’m not up to much, wench?” he asked, leaning back to pull off his shirt.

Brienne laughed, her pretty blue eyes darkening slightly. Jaime flexed his stomach muscles and Brienne raised her eyebrows, almost in a taunt. Jaime smirked, always happy to meet one of her challenges.

XXX

A maester a few miles away from King’s Landing had died less than twenty-four hours ago. Arya had been waiting for just such an opportunity, though she had supposedly sounded very cold when she had said that to Gendry. She’d ignored him and carried on with her plan, though. It was the best plan she had thought of. If she knew what was going on with Daenerys, then she would be able to understand her better. She would know whether or not they should act. Sansa had agreed. Perhaps it was true that women were colder than men, or simply more ambitious. It was certainly true in the cases of Daenerys and Sansa, compared with their husbands. Even Tyrion Lannister would have to bow to the ambition of his wife and Arya’s sister.

The skills that she had learned in the House of Black and White had not been lost in her time back on Westeros. She had prepared the maester and then become him, in the way that only the Faceless Men knew how. Joining the troop of maesters that served the queen had been more difficult, though not impossible. She had been sent as a gift from Sansa, a maester from Winterfell that nobody denied. It was not a fool proof plan, but it was temporary and Sansa could send her away if needed, if anyone seemed to be getting suspicious.

Daenerys’ meeting with the maesters had not been what Arya had expected. When they had heard that the queen was meeting with her maesters daily, it had been very confusing and neither Arya nor Sansa wanted to risk Jon’s wrath by asking him, especially as the meetings with the maesters were supposedly secret and it was only that Sansa had overheard a meeting between Tyrion and Varys that they knew anything about them.

The meeting focussed on Daenerys’ baby. Arya had believed that Daenerys was barren. It was the only reason that Jon had agreed for the wedding to go ahead, supposedly. Arya thought it was just a nice reason for Jon to marry the woman he loved. Arya understood that, now that she had married Gendry. If somebody told them now that they were related, that would not change the way she felt about him. Jon had made the only decision he could and it also happened to be a reason that protected the realm. The people were always more likely to accept a man on the throne, so the fact that Daenerys came with a husband who had a better claim to the throne than her was helpful to say the least - although clearly not enough for the awful rebels who had murdered Missandei, the kind handmaiden of the queen.

But, despite Daenerys’ supposed barrenness - and Arya did not think that it was a trick; she believed that Daenerys had truly considered herself to be barren - she was pregnant. In Arya’s mind, there was no downside to this. The kingdom needed an heir and a baby would show Westeros that she was going to provide for them, in this way and in others. Kingdoms needed an heir to look prosperous and, though there would be some who were squeamish about a nephew and an aunt having a child, they would be few and far between. There was less shared blood than between the siblings who had produced Daenerys and the siblings who had produced her parents. It was not such a strange thing in Westeros, especially in the South among nobles.

“Did she mention how Jon felt?” Sansa asked. They were in her chambers, alone.

“She said that he was happy,” Arya said, “though that was all and she gave no details.”

Sansa tutted. “And why would she, to her maesters.” She nodded. “I think you are right. This can only be a good thing.”

Arya nodded. “She asked a lot of questions about the baby’s health, but I suppose that that is a normal thing, especially since she lost the baby before.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Sansa agreed. “She also has never had a mother to teach her things about childbirth.”

“True.” Arya considered that. “Perhaps she would like it if you told her that you were pregnant too. That way you could go through it together.”

Sansa nodded, raising her brows. “Brienne too.”

Arya gasped. “Brienne is pregnant?”

Sansa’s eyes widened. “You didn’t know?”

“No!”

“Oh.” Sansa bit her lip. “Brienne’s pregnant.”

Arya scowled. “Oh just you wait until I see her. Just because you’re her goodsister does not mean she should be sharing things with you before me.”

“I think it means exactly that,” Sansa said, amused. Arya narrowed her eyes at her and then groaned.

“Bloody hell, you’re all three going to be pregnant at the same time.”

“Perhaps you should have a baby,” Sansa suggested, her tongue between her teeth. Arya flushed. “You did say-”

“I know what I said,” Arya snapped. Sansa chuckled, raising her eyebrows. “I’m going to go and shout at Brienne.”

Sansa tutted at her, picking up some papers from the table beside her. “Try not to be too harsh. She is pregnant, after all.”

Arya nodded slowly. “Perhaps I’ll shout at Jaime instead.”

“Oh, by all means,” Sansa agreed with a nod.

XXX

Arya left with her nose in the air, Sansa noticed with amusement. It had been an accident, revealing Brienne’s pregnancy to her sister, but Sansa was sure that Brienne would not mind. She was as close to Arya as she was to Sansa and it would only be a lack of time or effort that Brienne had not told Arya yet. And Arya’s reaction had been very amusing. There was nothing Sansa enjoyed more than when her sister reacted like a human being. Most of the time, she was calm and collected, with her perfect stoicism. When she was angry or happy or showed any emotion whatsoever, Sansa appreciated it. It was why she liked seeing her with Gendry so much.

“So, were you going to tell me that you were spying on Daenerys?” came her husband’s voice from the door that connected her chambers and solar. Sansa froze. Her heart had been light after her conversation with Arya but things had been tense between her and Tyrion lately, despite their joy at having a baby. Sansa was worried about his split loyalties, in these fractious times, and Tyrion did not like the way that Sansa always assumed the worst of Daenerys, which was, admittedly, a bad habit of Sansa’s.

Sansa turned to see that her husband was angry, his face red and his eyes bulging more than normal. Swallowing, she said, “I’m sorry.”

“For spying or for lying about it?”

Sansa closed her eyes. “For not telling you about it.”

“Was it your idea or Arya’s?” Tyrion asked, his voice level. Sansa almost wished he would shout, though she knew that he did not like to, especially not at her. He believed things could be solved with a diplomatic tone. It was an idea that Sansa shared, for politics, but she wished that he would show a little more passion with her. It only reinforced the idea that he saw their relationship as political and nothing more. Her stomach squirmed. It was these anxieties that were causing tension with her relationship with Tyrion, rather than anything else. If she felt sure of their relationship, she would be able to discuss things with him.

“It was Arya’s idea. She has a special skill set that I had not considered using,” Sansa said quietly.

“And I suppose you won’t tell me what that is, either.”

His voice was bitter. Sansa felt tears leap to her eyes, an all too common occurrence during her pregnancy. “I’d tell you if I thought you would be on my side,” she cried, abandoning her low tones.

Tyrion almost fell backwards, stumbling, his eyes widening. “Whose side would I be on?” he demanded. “You’re my wife. You’re carrying my child, for Seven’s sake, Sansa!”

Sansa scowled. “I am your wife but Daenerys is your queen. Your loyalty is to her.”

“Of course my loyalty is to her. Yours should be too,” he hissed.

Sansa groaned. “Can you see why I keep secrets?”

“No!” he shouted. Sansa blinked. “My loyalty is to her as my queen, but I love you. I will always choose you.”

Each time, he overemphasised the word you. Sansa’s shoulders fell. She had not even noticed that they were so close to her ears. “You love me,” she repeated.

Tyrion exhaled. “Of course I love you.”

Sansa was silent for a moment, her eyes wide and her lips parted. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.”

“Sansa, I hate that you make these plans and plots without me. If you talk to me, we can find the answer together.”

“I thought you would tell me that we should ignore it.”

Tyrion shook his head. “If you thought we should look into something, I would have agreed and, then, when we knew more, we could reevaluate together.”

Sansa bit her lip. “We can do that now,” she suggested. “Arya can tell both of us what she learns.”

Tyrion sighed. “I’m not sure how I feel about spying on her.”

“Lord Varys does,” Sansa said defensively, “and you don’t shout at him.”

“He’s not my wife, Sansa.” Sansa’s lips twitched. “I’m not so worried about Varys getting his head chopped off, though, admittedly, it would not be ideal.”

Sansa swallowed. “Arya is good at what she does.”

“Sansa, it is too much of a risk.”

“If we use Arya, we have somebody that we trust entirely. We need not share what we know with anybody, provided it comes back well. And Arya can protect her, in case of any attacks or false advice from other maesters.”

Tyrion sank down onto one of their chairs. “I suppose that that is true.” Sansa nodded. She moved from where she was sitting to kneel beside Tyrion.

“I hope I am wrong,” Sansa said honestly. “She is carrying my niece or nephew. I promise that I want to protect her.”

“Just not necessarily keep her on the throne.”

Sansa shook her head. “I’m not sure what I want, Tyrion, except to return to the North and have our baby safely.”

Tyrion gave her a grim smile. “That’s what I want too, Sansa.”

“I just have to make sure that she is doing the right thing first, for the North.”

Tyrion swallowed obviously. “Okay, Sansa. For now, I’ll go along with this, for her protection.”

“For the realms’ protection,” Sansa added. Tyrion nodded wearily. Sansa reached up and cupped his cheek. “By the way, Tyrion,” she said slowly, “I love you too.” Tyrion smiled widely. “I should have told you that a long time ago but I was scared.”

“Me too,” Tyrion admitted, “but we don’t need to be scared anymore. We have each other, above everything else.”

Sansa nodded, extending her legs on her knees to press her head against his. It was everything she wanted. “Above everything else.”


	21. Chapter 21

Daenerys counted the maesters around the court. She’d said she would make an announcement at midday and her closest maester was shaking her head each time she looked at him, anxious to begin. She counted the maesters’ chains next, how many links each had on it. The maesters that she had posted across the room, in the corners, by the entrance, were too far from her to count their chains. She searched her memory, trying to remember which maester had which chains. She was sure that-

The clearing of a throat broke her off. She glanced up, tapping her fingers against the arms of the Iron Throne, to find her closest maester, her timekeeper, nodding. It was midday, a good time for an announcement.

Upon standing, the entire court went silent. It sent a giddy rush to her head. She heard Jon rise behind her. He disagreed with this decision, said it was too early, but Dany didn’t like secrets. “I want to inform you all that I am carrying the heir to the Iron Throne.”

The immediate cheer satisfied Dany that she had made the right decision. Now it would not only be her and Jon protecting their baby, but all of them. And perhaps they would think twice before attacking her. And perhaps it would bring some people on side, now that she was going to provide an heir. Every kingdom wanted an heir.

“I have invited the best maesters from the Seven Kingdoms to assist me through this.” Her maesters seemed to stand straighter at her words. Dany smiled. “I know that you too will wish me good health and do everything you can to support me.” There was another cheer.

Dany left soon afterwards, deciding not to hold a session for her people to come to her. She knew that they would only want to talk about the baby and she didn’t know enough yet. She was studying her books, every book that the maesters gave her, about childbirth and pregnancy. She wanted to be as prepared as possible. Jon had promised to read some too, which Dany thought was extraordinarily sweet, given that he did not like to read.

They reached their chambers together and, reminded of her husband’s kindness, Dany went on her tiptoes to give him a lingering kiss. He grinned, following her line of thought, opened the door with one hand, while his other stroked the small of her back, making Dany tingle.

When they had giddily stumbled inside, she kicked the door closed behind her, taking no time at all to jump onto the bed and allow her husband to join her.

XXX

Pregnancy was hard. Every morning, without fail, for the past month, Dany had met with her maesters, before even the Small Council. The Council agreed that her pregnancy was the most important thing to secure the reign, even more so than the ships or the laws. An heir was the one thing that solidified a dynasty and that was what Dany was going to provide.

She had twenty maesters, to whom she would ask questions and thoughtfully receive each of their advice. Her favourite was a small man, from just outside of King’s Landing, who had come to her and explained that he was an expert in all things pregnancy. She had been all too happy to take him on. There was a significant lack of maesters who specialised in pregnancy, most of them leaving it to midwives, which Dany refused to do. The midwives had no formal training and nothing to recommend them beyond a few peasants’ births. No, maesters were the way to go.

She was just listening to the advice of one of her maesters about back pain when her stomach lurched, for the third time during the meeting and the sixth time that morning. She stood and was provided with a pail by her favourite maester, Maester Porle, who also helped her to keep her hair out of the way of her vomit.

None of the maesters looked too disgusted. Any that had the first time she had vomited during their meetings had been banished from her presence. The last thing she needed were maesters who could not even handle vomit. How would they handle a baby and all the things that came along with it?

The thought made Dany wince, as she pulled her head up from the pail. This sickness was new. There had always been sickness of course, but she had not expected it to continue. She was in her fourth month of pregnancy and she had been told by one of the maesters that it would end in her third month of pregnancy, especially if she took root of valerian. That had been stupid advice.

She looked around suddenly. She did not want anybody with such stupid advice around her. Cutting off the maester currently speaking, she said in a severe voice, “Who advised me to take root of valerian?”

There was a pause of silence before a tall, spindly maester, Maester Khallom put his hand on the table and said, “I did, your grace.” His voice was tremulous, scared. Dany leaned back in her chair, smiling. Maester Khallom looked at ease. She summoned her guards and nodded at the maester.

“I want you to ensure that it was not malicious advice.”

“It was not, your grace,” Khallom said, his eyes wide as the Unsullied approached. They looked at her for clarification and she tutted.

“Question him!” she ordered.

The two guards nodded once and then escorted Khallom swiftly out of the room. Dany took a moment to appreciate their efficiency. “Now,” she said, leaning forward and lying her hands on the table, “we will have no more stupidity here, will we? Let’s continue.”

She nodded at the maester she interrupted, who swallowed audibly before continuing.

XXX

Sansa’s hands shook lightly as she knocked on the door to the queen’s chambers. The guards had told her that they were no longer permitted to allow just anyone into her chambers, after maester’s advice told her to be wary of those around her, who may wish to avoid a Targaryen heir to the throne. Sansa accepted that. She understood that Daenerys was wary, after having lost her first baby because of a curse from a witch. And, after the awful attack on Missandei, Sansa herself would be terrified of someone coming in and taking another of Daenerys’ most precious people.

Daenerys’ handmaiden answered the door. Sansa didn’t know this girl’s name and she had seen the pain on the queen’s face every time she looked at her and didn’t see Missandei. With a tight smile at the girl, Sansa slipped inside, hearing Daenerys call her name in a welcoming tone. Sansa found her relaxed on her chaise longue. She smiled at the sight.

Daenerys gave her a sheepish smile. “My maesters told me that I should keep my feet up. My ankles have already started to swell.”

Sansa’s had too. She sat down on an armchair beside Daenerys. “It’s good that you’re prioritising yourself and the baby. Jon is doing an excellent job during the court sessions.”

Daenerys nodded distractedly, glancing out of the window. “Do the people prefer him?” she asked. Sansa shook her head.

“They know that you are a team and you are growing their heir. They have a high esteem for you, your grace,” Sansa said honestly. Daenerys beamed. “I wanted to tell you something.”

“What’s that?” she asked, eyes wide.

“I’m pregnant too.”

Daenerys gasped, her eyes going wide. “You’re pregnant?” she exclaimed. Sansa nodded, smiling.

“Not many people know but I wanted to tell you, so that we can be pregnant together, go through it all together.” Sansa had Brienne too but Brienne was keeping the pregnancy quiet for now. 

“You ought to put your feet up,” Daenerys said, shifting closer to the back of the sofa. “Put your feet here,” she said, tapping the space beside her. Sansa smiled and did so. “I like your shoes.”

“They’re nice, aren’t they?” Sansa said with a smile. “They were made in the North.”

“You’ll have to get me some for after the pregnancy,” Daenerys said. “I think they’re too high for pregnancy.” Sansa furrowed her brow. There were only slight heels on the shoes. “One of my maesters says that the chance of falling in heels is too great and I should only wear flats.”

Sansa smiled. Men knew nothing of heels. Tyrion had suggested the same thing to her and she had explained that she was hardly going to topple over because there was an inch or two on the bottom of her feet, especially at the beginning of her pregnancy when her balance was still fine. And she loved these shoes. They were comfortable and pretty. Daenerys’ eyes widened. “No, you ought to take me seriously, Sansa.”

Sansa realised that the queen thought she was mocking her with her smile. She smiled. “I was only thinking of a conversation with Tyrion, your grace. He too thought that heels were unsafe. I’ll wear them until I start to lose my balance.”

Daenerys furrowed her brow. “That is a common effect of pregnancy?” she asked. Sansa glanced at her handmaiden, who was focussed on watching the outside from the window, and then back at the queen.

“Yes, your grace. Your body is not used to the extra weight.”

Daenerys shook her head slightly as if clearing it. “Of course, of course. Yes, we should certainly not be wearing heels then. I believe I have been feeling unbalanced.” Sansa swallowed. “Raesha,” she called. The handmaiden looked up, her dark eyes wide. “Bring Lady Sansa some flat shoes. She is too pregnant to be wearing heels.”

“Oh,” Sansa said, her eyes wide. “I was going to wait until-”

“Sansa, you cannot be too careful.” Sansa just nodded and moved her feet from Daenerys’ chaise longue in order for Raesha, the handmaiden, to adorn them with pretty blue slippers. “You may keep those.” Sansa smiled.

“Thank you, your grace. They are beautiful.”

Daenerys nodded idly. “Raesha, burn Sansa’s other shoes.” Sansa’s eyes widened.

“Your grace-” It was too late. The shoes went onto the fire. Sansa mourned for the pretty lace that had adorned them, the intricate direwolves that had been embroidered on the heels. They had been a gift from her favourite shoemaker, when she had married Tyrion. Her mother had had similar ones, when she had arrived in the North, married to her father.

She shook her head slightly. She would get more. The shoemaker would happily make her more shoes. Sansa was hardly lacking in funds. They were only shoes. “Is there-” Sansa cut herself off, shaking her head slightly. “If you wanted to discuss anything about pregnancy, I would be only too happy to help.”

Daenerys furrowed her brow. “This is your first pregnancy, is it not?”

Sansa swallowed. “Yes.”

“It is my second. I lost Rhaego but I think I have slightly more experience than you.”

Sansa nodded. “Of course, your grace. Only my mother-”

Daenerys shook her head. “I have the maesters too. I promise I will share whatever they tell me.”

“Thank you,” Sansa said, confused.

“You ought to go now, Sansa,” Daenerys said. “You should be staying inside, now that you’re pregnant. I’ll make sure the guards know to look out for you.”

Sansa nodded, a bit dizzied from the exchange. She wandered out of the chambers and returned to Tyrion, wondering whether she had just conversed with a madwoman or a woman who was simply concerned for her child. For now, she would give her the benefit of the doubt but they would have to stay longer to be sure. Sansa stifled a sigh. Her baby would definitely not be born in the North and terrible things happened when the Starks came South.

XXX

“The trial of the maester,” Tyrion started, glancing around the table. Daenerys had invited him, as warden of the North, to take part in the Small Council meeting. They were held in Daenerys’ solar now, rather than the Small Council’s own meeting room, where Daenerys sat on her chaise longue, her feet elevated and a maester posted behind her for her health.

Tyrion had suggested that Sansa be invited too, as she was the true Wardeness of the North and he was only her husband, but Daenerys had reminded Tyrion that Sansa was pregnant and it would be taxing for her. Jaime had been surprised by this and he had not suggested that Brienne be invited. Jaime was the Warden of the West in his own right, so he too had been asked to advise. Tyrion didn’t truly know how Daenerys felt about his brother, now. So much had happened but Jaime would surely always be the man who killed her father.

“What maester?” Daenerys asked. Tyrion swallowed.

“The maester who has been accused of poisoning, your grace. We have investigated and cannot find any evidence that he poisoned you.” An uneasy feeling settled in Tyrion’s stomach.

“Oh, yes, Maester Khallom. I remember.”

“I believe we will schedule a trial, your grace, but it is likely he will be found innocent. Perhaps it would be better for the realm if we simply pardoned him now. Less embarrassing that way.”

Daenerys quirked an eyebrow. Jaime cleared his throat next to Tyrion. “Embarrassing?” Tyrion said nothing. “There is no need for any further action in this case, Lord Tyrion.”

Tyrion glanced around the table. Jon Snow looked particularly uncomfortable. “Why is that, your grace?”

“We gave him a position as a maester in the North.”

“In the North?” Tyrion repeated.

Daenerys inclined her head. “As maester of the Wall.”

Tyrion’s shoulders fell, his lips parting. He met Jaime’s eyes across the table. “The Wall,” he repeated.

“Yes,” Daenerys said impatiently. “Do I need to employ a parrot, Lord Tyrion? Must you hear everything twice?”

“Was he sent to the Wall as a punishment?”

“Yes,” she said simply. “His bad advice, even if it were not poisoning, caused me to be ill. He has gone to the Wall to work with the other prisoners there and learn. His skills were lacking.”

Tyrion decided to keep his mouth shut and not say that most maesters’ skills were lacking in the area of childbirth. It had been long ago decided that women were superior to men in this area. Sansa had hired a midwife for herself, to help her, rather than a maester. He opened his mouth again but Daenerys cut him off.

“I am quite fed up of talking about poor maesters,” she snapped. “If you want to continue, you may return to the North with your pretty pregnant wife, my lord.”

Tyrion swallowed and nodded once, an apology. He and Sansa could not return to the North until they had decided whether or not Daenerys was a safe monarch. Having supported her for this long, Tyrion felt a responsibility to the realms, to make sure he had backed the right horse and given them a queen who would protect them.

XXX

Arya crept out of Daenerys’ chamber, not changing her gait or her expression until she reached the chamber that she had chosen herself for the maester who was so highly esteemed by the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She chose it because it was directly above the chambers assigned to Arya Stark, the beloved sister of the King of the Seven Kingdoms, and her husband.

She stripped herself of her mask, of her robes, of everything that made her the maester, and then she hid it all away and took a few moments to ‘live in’ the chambers belonging to the maester. She used the chamberpot, she opened a book and placed it on the table, she rolled about in the bed. When she was done and the room looked sufficiently lived in, she slipped out behind a portrait and used the servants’ staircase to access her own rooms.

Gendry was there, reading slowly. She was teaching him to read and she found it very sweet that he was so eager to learn. She grinned at him, creeping over with cat-like footsteps, and announced her presence with a loud clap of her hands. He dropped his book, screeching, and was confronted with Arya’s devilish laughter.

“Arya!” he growled, chasing after her as she ran away from him, cackling madly. She threw herself onto the bed, allowing him to catch her, pinning her arms above her head. He pressed a kiss to her neck. “It was funny the first time,” he allowed as he traced his lips over her jaw.

“You love it,” she said breathlessly, arching her hips up to meet his.

Gendry harrumphed. “I love you,” he conceded and Arya grinned, kissing him soundly on his lips.

“Even if I spend all day creeping around in old skin with a ballbag loose enough to brush my knees?” Gendry pulled back, loosening his hold on her arms. He gave her a look of disgust and she smirked.

“Did you have a successful day?” he asked simply. They did not really speak of her self-given mission aloud. Arya nodded once.

“Successful enough,” she told him. “I’ll tell you all about it later.” She swung her legs around his waist, looping them together loosely. He grinned and bent close to her again, covering her lips with his own and making her forget all about maesters and medicine and making queens stay inside.


	22. Chapter 22

The day that court was suspended, Sansa breathed in relief. Arya left her room, in her maester’s ‘mask’ and robes and Sansa threw herself onto the bed in relief. There was to be no more scrambling to ensure that nobody thought of Daenerys as mad, that nobody saw the small but growing list of things that were worrying the court.

Arya had done a great service to Westeros, though it was a secret service and one that she would never receive praise for.

Sansa felt the bed dip beside her as Tyrion lay back beside her. Neither of them smiled. These past months of ensuring a safe and politically stable court had been hard on either of them and, as the days went by, Sansa realised how little she wanted power. Her ambition waned and waned. She wasn’t sure if that was exhaustion or a simple protective feeling. Her ambition, her arrogance in her dislike of Daenerys, could have caused them to lose their family, could still cause them harm. As Sansa’s baby grew, her great desire to run away from everything and never return to Westeros did too.

Tyrion told her that he thought it was normal, to want to protect the baby from all of these. The Seven knew that Brienne was feeling the same. Sansa had noted it each time she saw her. Hands flying to her stomach, eyes wide at any sound, the signs were there and shared between both of them.

But, where Sansa and Brienne were protective, Daenerys was in overdrive, desperate to keep her baby safe. Her stomach grew and grew and, as she reached her fifth month, Arya’s plan finally succeeded and court was suspended, the doors to the Red Keep closed and none but close family and council workers admitted. It was a precaution that had seemed to be too much at first but, as the months dragged on, it had become necessary.

As the doors shut to the Red Keep, so too did the doors to Daenerys’ chambers. She was going into confinement early, to protect the baby and herself. Jon was still there to run the kingdoms and, thus, Daenerys could put her body and her child first. Three of her ladies, all also pregnant, stayed in there with her and two handmaidens each, as well as a midwife each. The number of pregnant women at court was vast, a result of so many rushed war marriages and so much celebratory sex. That was how Sansa saw it anyway.

Sansa curled closer to Tyrion, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I should go and see Jon,” he murmured, his hand stroking her ribcage and moving down to the swell of her belly. Sansa smiled, feeling sleepy.

“You should. I think I might take a nap.” Tyrion hummed his agreement and pulled away. Sansa felt a cold enter her stomach and chastised herself for being so reliant on one man. She watched him leave fondly, one eye open while the other readied her brain for sleep. The baby leeched her energy every day, no matter how much food she allowed herself. The door clicked shut and Sansa let both her eyes close.

She was startled awake by the feel of hands on her arms, on her legs. She kicked wildly, Ramsay’s face above her, his body pressing into her, until she opened her eyes and found that it was better and yet worse. She had no idea who was on top of her. Would they do what Ramsay did to her? Bile rose in her throat. Desperately, she tried to shake their hands off her arms, to reach and protect her baby. Her stomach was so exposed. What if they had come to kill her baby?

When she opened her mouth to scream, she found that it was stuffed with something, something that made her mouth dry and meant that no noise could come from her. She sobbed even so, noise escaping from her nose at least. Perhaps somebody would hear her - would save her.

They - whoever they were - dragged her from her chambers. She was in her shift. There was nobody around to see her in her state of undress because Daenerys had closed the court. There was nobody around to save her. The thought made Sansa sob harder. Where was Arya? Where was Brienne?

These thoughts swirled around in her head as they transported her through the Red Keep. They didn’t come across anybody and why would they? The small council was meeting and the queen was in confinement. There were very few other people in court. Sansa calculated when she would be noticed as missing, praying that Tyrion would return to their chambers straight away, after the meeting. Or perhaps Brienne would come and visit her and she would see that the chambers were empty. Were there signs of a struggle? Would Brienne only think she had gone to the Godswood-

All of those thoughts disappeared as the guards slowed and stopped, in front of the queen’s chambers. Something fell in Sansa’s chest and then picked up again. She was disappointed and then, yes, scared. Tyrion had been right. They should have left. Sansa should have gone to the North, to Essos, to anywhere, provided that she would be safe.

Did Daenerys know that they had been scheming? What would she have done? Sansa’s eyes wept silent tears as she considered that she would not be able to give her baby a future. She had had such plans. She had been so happy. Her heart raced. She would never see Tyrion again. She would never tell him she loved him again, never lie with him again, never even kiss him. Why hadn’t she kissed him earlier? Had she really been so tired to kiss her husband?

The door to the chambers opened and it was one of the handmaidens, who met eyes with Sansa. There was something akin to fear in her eyes, or perhaps it was warning. Sansa tried to level her breathing.

“Oh, Sansa, good,” Daenerys said cheerily. Her feet were up again. She did have a bad case of swollen ankles. They were worse than Sansa’s. “You look scared, Sansa,” Daenerys said, a chiding tone in her voice. Then she cocked her head. “Why is she gagged? Men, why is the Lady Sansa gagged?”

“She was going to scream, your grace,” one of the guards mumbled. Daenerys stood suddenly and approached. Her feet were bare, her toenails perfectly clipped and painted with the same Essosi nail paint that they had used before Brienne’s wedding. She grew close and Sansa flinched at the sound of her hand cracking against the cheek of the guard who had spoken.

“Lady Sansa is precious. She is high-blooded and pregnant. You will remove the gag and apologise.”

The guard did remove the gag and then spoke, “I am truly sorry, my lady.” He sounded more scared than apologetic but Sansa understood the feeling. She had no idea what was happening. She felt as though the world was spinning.

“Get on your knees,” the queen said harshly. Sansa watched, unfeeling, as the guard fell to his knees.

“I apologise,” he said. Sansa nodded desperately, eagerly. She wanted this whole situation to be over. She wanted to return to her rooms. Daenerys pursed her lips and then ordered both guards to leave. They did and then Daenerys beamed at Sansa.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said.

“What can I help you with, your grace?” Sansa asked, as demurely as she could. Though the queen seemed chipper, there was always the chance that she was going to punish Sansa anyway. There were many things that Sansa had done that were treasonous.

“You’re coming to stay here,” Daenerys said as though it were the best news in the world.

Sansa’s world slowed down. Her eyes widened then fell to the floor. Tyrion. By the Seven, he would be alone. And Brienne. It wasn’t fair. It was so unjust. So - “No,” burst from her lips. She had been kidnapped, manhandled, gagged, all to be brought here and told that she could not spend the rest of her pregnancy with her husband.

Daenerys’ brows drew together. “No?” she repeated, eyes narrowed.

“I mean,” Sansa stuttered, hating her weakness. She drew herself together. “Your grace, my husband would be devastated if I did not spend this time with him.”

Daenerys shook her head. “Husbands do not get a choice. This is your body, Sansa, your child and your responsibility. I’m sure Tyrion can deal very well without you for a few months.” Months. It would be months. The room span. “Perhaps our whorehouses will do well out of it.” Her ladies, her handmaidens and the midwives tittered but Sansa did not. They did not know her husband.

“Tyrion will be fine. I’ve already got you a bed set up. We pregnant ladies have to stick together, Sansa.”

Sansa nodded, stumbling over to a chair. Arya would know what to do. Arya would do something, would protect her. There was something that they could do. There had to be something.

XXX

Arya arrived at Brienne’s chambers in a haste. “She knows,” she panted as she arrived. Brienne knew who she was immediately, despite the fact that she was in the body of a maester. Brienne nodded, clamping her hands over her stomach.

“Jaime is- he’s in a small council meeting,” Brienne said hurriedly. “How long do I have?”

Arya sighed and shook her head. “Give me a message. I’ll tell him.”

Brienne blinked and Arya thought her eyes sparkled for a moment before it cleared. “Tell him I love him and I love Joanna and I love our life together. Promise him I’ll see him soon.” Arya nodded and then surged forward, clasping Brienne’s hands.

“Tell Sansa that I’m doing my best for her, that I’m looking after Tyrion.” Brienne nodded and her eyes were definitely shining now.

“Look after- look after Jaime, too,” she asked, her throat so obviously filled with tears that Arya pulled her hands away and turned.

“I promise,” she said, nodding and darting over to Brienne’s wardrobe. “I’ll hide in here. I’ll see you soon, Brienne. I promise I’ll fix this, all of this.”

She caught one last look of Brienne, her blue eyes swimming with tears, hands clasped over the baby bump that she had been hiding for the three weeks since Sansa had been taken into the queen’s confinement. Arya’s heart ached as she closed the wardrobe door, making her breathing as silent as possible and listening for the sounds of the guards who were coming to take Brienne.

Brienne went easily, when they came. It was far better than the kidnapping that Sansa had reported, in the one meeting that Arya had been able to have with her since she had been taken. Arya’s ire only grew as she left the wardrobe, glancing around the room. The bed was not made. Brienne’s sword lay discarded, her armour in pieces by the window.

Arya sank down into her chair and glanced out of said window, from behind a curtain. She would wait for Jaime, wait to tell him herself, and she would hope that he had not found out before he arrived.

She was antsy when he finally arrived, over an hour later. She had sprung up from the chair many times, hand on the door handle, ready to storm into the small council meeting and tell him herself. Each time she had stopped. It was better if Jaime was alone. The last thing they needed was him to blurt out treason and get himself arrested and probably executed. So, Arya had sunk back down into her chair.

Another time, the nanny had arrived and Arya had been disappointed to see that it was not Jaime, though, admittedly, she had brightened up at the sight of Joanna. The nanny had been confused by the sight of Arya - who, by this point, had discarded her disguise as a maester - there would be more questions if a maester was found in Jaime’s rooms, rather than Arya. Arya explained quietly to the nanny what had happened and then convinced her to leave Joanna with Arya, for now. Brienne trusted the woman she had hired to look after Joanna while they were in King’s Landing, so Arya was willing to, too, for now.

When Jaime slipped into the room, smiling for some reason, she had to watch as his face fell at the sight of her. She watched as he recognised the way that Arya looked, grim-faced and serious, the way that she was holding his child. “Where is she?” he asked in a controlled manner, his jaw tight, his eyes flaring with anger.

Arya closed her eyes briefly. “With Sansa,” she said quietly. Jaime nodded once, striding over and taking Joanna from Arya’s arms.

“She- okay,” he said, letting out a sigh. He held Joanna tightly.

“I’m sorry, Jaime,” Arya said earnestly. When he met her eyes, she saw tears there. She imagined how she would feel if Gendry were taken from her in the same way and knew that she would be reacting the same, anger, upset. He blinked.

“What’s the plan? I’m- I’m not sure I can- Joanna turns one next week.” He was rambling and Arya felt her heart break for this man that she had hated once, this man who her father had despised, who her brother had captured. She should not have had so much sympathy for him but she did. He was Brienne’s husband and Brienne was her family. That made Jaime family too, in the same way that Tyrion was.

“We’re going to sort this out,” Arya promised. She put her hand on Jaime’s arm and he looked up at her. He stroked Joanna’s curls back from her face. “I promise you that we are going to sort this out.” Jaime nodded, breaking their eye contact.

“Have you seen Sansa? How is she?”

Arya sighed. “She’s - okay.” Jaime closed his eyes. “I’ll be able to see her again, soon, I think, and Brienne too. They’ll be better together. They can protect each other.”

“You’re right.” Jaime pressed a kiss to his daughter’s temple. “This isn’t fair.”

Arya shook her head, blinking back tears. “It isn’t.”

XXX

It had been a month, Jaime realised when he returned from the small council meeting that afternoon. It had been a month since he had seen his wife, since she had seen Joanna. It had been a month of pretending that everything was okay, of plotting with Arya and Tyrion, of cradling his daughter when she cried and telling her that she would be back with her mumma soon and that they would have another baby too. By the Seven, they would have another baby and Brienne would get through the childbirth well. Jaime had dreams, at night, about his mother, about the cries he’d heard when Tyrion was born. He had dreams, too, of Brienne and her making the same cries, of a midwife coming out of the birthing room to tell him she was dead. He woke up, panting and crying and searching for his wife in the bed beside him, only to find that she was not there.

And, so, that afternoon, after having played his part in the small council, Jaime gave his daughter to Arya and Gendry and crept into the queen’s chambers, using the tunnels that Arya had discovered. They were large chambers and each of the women had been granted their own rooms. Still, this was too dangerous. He watched the back of his wife’s head. They were playing cards. Sansa was smiling and Daenerys was smiling and Jaime hoped that Brienne was scowling. He would hate it if she could live without him when he woke every night crying for her.

It didn’t take long until Brienne had to make water and she found Jaime in her rooms. They locked eyes. Her mouth, her plump lips, made the shape of his name. He smiled at her, pressing a finger to his lips. She nodded and he was reminded of how well they fit together when she crept away and told Daenerys that she was feeling suddenly very tired and she was going to retire. The sky was darkening after all and she wanted to give the baby rest. Daenerys agreed. Anything for the baby.

The tunnels led away from the chambers to another room, to the maester’s room. Their fingers interlaced, Jaime tried to imagine what he would say to Brienne first, once they were safely behind the walls of the chambers. Daenerys knew of the tunnels, Jaime knew that, but he didn’t think she would come. He would hope that she would stay, playing her card games, for an hour, two hours. They would not have long but it would be enough.

Jaime knew that it would never be enough.

He closed the door behind him, leaning his head on the wood for just a second before turning. He found his wife watching him with tear-filled eyes. Her baby bump was huge now. It was almost impossible to think that only a month ago nobody had known she was pregnant save their friends.

Every clever thought about what he should say went out of Jaime’s mind. “Hello,” he murmured and she smiled, beamed really, and then she was in his arms and they weren’t even kissing, just holding each other and running their hands over each other - it was real - it was real - and she was there and she would have to go back but it was real - for now it was real.


	23. Chapter 23

“Don’t you know that that is incredibly dangerous?”

Brienne sat in her chair, in front of the fire, all of Dany’s ladies surrounding her in a semi-circle, standing while Brienne was sitting. For the first time in her life, Brienne felt small. She knew that she had done nothing wrong. There was nothing wrong with sleeping with your husband while you were pregnant, but, here, in the court of Queen Daenerys, it was incredibly wrong.

“You risked your baby’s life,” Daenerys continued, her tone incredulous and her eyes wide. The other women around her watched her carefully, some with disgust, some with envy. If it were one of them who had slept with their husband, Brienne would have been envious too, but she could not regret those few hours that she had had with Jaime.

Daenerys sighed. “I was going to allow you all to see your husbands and children, just once,” she admitted, looking around the room. “I understand that you want to, that you miss them, and I will be benevolent. I miss my husband too.” Brienne bitterly wondered if that were even true. Why would she choose to stay away from him if she missed him? All of this was her doing, this early confinement. “But, now, Lady Brienne, you will not be allowed to see your husband or your daughter. You put your baby at risk, the next generation of Westeros at risk.”

Brienne’s heart plummeted. She had not been able to see Joanna and now she would not be allowed to at all. Bile rose in her throat. She had not known that this would happen. If she had, would she have sent Jaime away? She knew with honesty that she probably would not have. She had wanted to see Jaime, so desperately, and she would never be able to send him away.

A few of the ladies were crying with happiness. They were the ones who had children that they were not allowed to see, while they were pregnant. Brienne understood the way they felt. It would be her watching them with envy after they saw their children.

Brienne could see Joanna in her mind, though she knew she would be different now, older. It had been her birthday a week ago. Brienne’s constant fear was that Joanna would think that her mother had abandoned her. The thought made tears come to her eyes. She looked up and found Daenerys smiling.

“I hope that you understand that you put us all at risk by accepting the company of a man,” she said softly, almost kindly. “Your punishment is not so severe, as you have already seen your husband, which is more than the rest of us have been able to have.” Brienne wanted to scream at her, to remind her that it was her that had made this happen, but she calmed her anger. Daenerys was ill more than evil, mad more than cruel. But none of this should be affecting her or her baby.

Tears pricked behind Brienne’s eyes and then slipped down her cheeks. She focussed her eyes on her lap, trying and failing to stop the tears coming. She heard the titters of the other ladies, some of whom thought that mockery of others would endear Daenerys to them. It never did. Only keeping to her rules, to protect ‘the next generation of Westeros’, which happened to be growing inside each of them, did that.

Brienne closed her eyes and, soon afterwards, felt Sansa’s arms encircle her, her head leaning on top of Brienne’s. “I’m so sorry,” Sansa whispered. Brienne was pleased that Sansa would be allowed to see Tyrion at least. She could ask how Joanna was, how Jaime was truly coping. She could deliver a message. It was better than nothing but it was so far from what Brienne had expected her life to be when they had defeated Cersei.

XXX

Jaime burst into his brother’s chambers, the sound of the slam of the door against the wall satisfying in its crash. He brought Joanna closer to his chest when she startled at the sound. 

“Jaime,” Tyrion said, looking up from the chess set he was sitting at. His voice was surprised and a bit confused.

“How could you let this happen?” Jaime growled. “You did this. You supported her. You brought her to Westeros.” Tyrion looked back down at his chess set. Jaime saw that all of the pieces were in their original positions.

“What do you want me to say, Jaime?” he asked, his voice dull. “I’m sorry.”

Jaime blinked away his tears. “You’re sorry?” he repeated. “My wife, my pregnant wife, is locked up in there with her, away from her daughter, away from me.” Jaime looked away as his voice caught. He pressed a kiss to Joanna’s curls.

“Sansa is in there too!” Tyrion reminded him. “Don’t claim all the wrongdoing, Jaime. Brienne is not the only one in there. You’re not the only one who is alone.”

Jaime looked down at the floor, taking in a shaky breath and ignoring the tears on his cheeks. “I can’t see her. All the rest of you get to see your wives and I can’t see her.”

“You already saw her,” Tyrion said, standing, his voice rising. “You saw her already. I don’t-” Tyrion closed his eyes and then opened them “- Daenerys has sent me out of King’s Landing on the day of the meeting, the only day that the women can come out apparently. A maester told her that a waxing moon in the fourth moon of the year was the only safe day for them.”

Guilt settled heavily on Jame’s chest. “Tyrion-”

“Don’t,” Tyrion snapped, pressing a palm into one of his eyes and then the other. “We have to work together, Jaime. We have to get them out before they- before they go into labour. Who knows what she is planning for that?”

Jaime closed his eyes. Tyrion sounded as broken as he felt. The prospect of Brienne not having a safe delivery petrified Jaime. Even though Joanna had been born without issue, the thought of both of their mothers having died in childbirth was still in the back of Jaime’s mind. If Brienne was not properly helped to deliver, who knew what sort of danger she would be in?

The thought made Jaime feel sick. He could not be a father to Joanna, not without Brienne there to be a mother. And what if the baby survived and Brienne died? It was all too much to cope with.

“What can be done?” Jaime asked quietly.

Tyrion sighed. “I want to speak to Jon.”

XXX

Jaime arrived outside of the king’s chamber two days after the conversation he and Tyrion had had about their wives, which had ended in them getting very drunk together, while Joanna watched on, giggling at their antics. Jaime had a feeling that Brienne would not have been impressed. They hadn’t discussed Jaime doing this, but Jaime did not have the patience that Tyrion’s aptitude for politics allowed him. He was going to speak to the king and he was going to speak to him now, before it was too late.

The guards were reluctant to admit Jaime. There were not many people in the Seven Kingdoms who liked Jaime and that was particularly the case in King’s Landing, where most of the guards were either loyal to Daenerys - whose father he had killed - or Jon, who was a Northerner. Nobody hated a Lannister as much as a Northerner.

Thus, in order to be admitted to Jon’s apartments, Jaime had to make a lot of noise, to attract Jon’s attention and, then, demand entrance. It didn’t take very long to complete all of this and he soon found himself sitting in front of the king’s fireplace, drinking his wine.

“What can I help you with, Ser Jaime?” Jon asked quietly, as though he did not know why Jaime would be there. Jaime narrowed his eyes.

“Your wife has my wife held prisoner.”

Jon sighed. Jaime scowled. “The queen is subject to no one.”

“The queen should be subject to her people,” Jaime protested. “The people that put her on the throne have a right to good treatment, not kidnapping.”

Jon looked away from Jaime. “Queen Daenerys is worried about her second pregnancy ending as her first did. She was once told that she would never bear children. She simply wants to protect the heir.”

“And my child has to suffer too? Your sister is locked up in there!”

Jon met Jaime’s eyes. “What do you want me to say, Ser Jaime? Neither Lady Brienne nor Lady Sansa, nor any of the other women staying with the queen, are in any danger, nor in ill health. She wants to look after them. When the pregnancy is over-” Jon paused, looking down and then up again “- everything will get back to normal.”

Jaime could hear how much Jon wanted to believe that in his voice. Jaime opened his mouth to tell him that he was delusional and Jon put up his hand to cut him off. “Ser Jaime, I have excused your comments up to this point as concern for your wife but I will not ignore them any longer. You edge close to treason.”

Jaime turned away, anger swelling inside him like an infection. “Execute me then,” he said tightly, turning back. Jon’s lips thinned. “I have watched the Seven Kingdoms suffer under a mad king. I watched as people said that it would return to normal after this and then after that and it never did. I watched your grandfather and uncle die and I listened as Daenerys’ father raped her mother over and over again and all along everybody told me that I was serving my king. I was not. I was serving a mad man who had no right to his throne.” Jaime jabbed his finger into Jon’s chest. “Do not trick yourself into believing you are doing right by your wife. If she truly loved her people, she would not subject them to this madness.”

With that, Jaime whirled around, eager to return to his daughter and read her a story before she went to sleep. When his hand clasped the handle to leave, he heard a sharp intake of breath. Turning, he found Jon’s hand covering his face, his shoulders shaking.

He released his anger with a sigh. If Brienne was in the position Daenerys was in, what would Jaime do? He would not be able to do anything to hurt her. She was his wife and his love. He would react precisely as Jon was, with hope that his love would return and with tears. Jaime swallowed, his shoulders slumped.

“Let’s work together,” he offered. “There is a way out of this without pain. Just- let’s get Brienne and Sansa and the others safe.” Jon swallowed audibly. “Please.”

Jon met Jaime’s eyes. “No pain,” he repeated, his voice dull and low.

“No pain,” Jaime confirmed, wondering how he would convince an angry Arya that that was the way forward. Jon nodded slowly.

XXX

Sansa grasped the bed frame next to her as she hauled herself out of her bed. Pain ripped through her stomach and she fell slightly, crying out, a deep and guttural sound, her hand clenching against the bed frame, as though it was that which had hurt her.

The pain lasted, the longest one yet. A sob escaped from her throat. She had tried to pretend that it wasn’t happening, had tried to give her husband, Jaime, Jon and Arya more time to get her free, to where a midwife would be allowed in to help her, but she couldn’t pretend any longer. The pains were lasting longer and coming closer together. The baby was coming.

“Brienne,” she panted, allowing herself to sink slowly to the floor, lolling her head back against the mattress. “Brienne!” she cried, louder, and then she ground her teeth together. How did women do this more than once? Her insides were ripping apart.

Brienne finally appeared in Sansa’s doorway, her face white, her pregnant stomach as large as Sansa’s. “It’s coming,” she stated more than asked. Sansa nodded hurriedly anyway.

“Tyrion,” she started and then screamed as pain exploded inside her again. Tears tracked down her cheeks. “Brienne, please, Tyrion,” she groaned. “Tyrion!” She felt more than saw as Brienne sank down next to her, taking her hand.

“You can do this, Sansa,” Brienne said. Sansa looked up. Brienne’s face was shining with sweat. Sansa shook her head.

“Not without Tyrion,” she wept. Her hand went to her stomach.

“Sansa, the baby is coming,” Brienne pressed. “You need to get back onto the bed and take your undergarments off.”

Sansa sobbed. “Tyrion, Tyrion, he said he’d be here.”

“I know, I know,” Brienne said, wiping the hair back from her face. “We’ll find him. We’ll get him. I promise, Sansa, but we have to look after the baby and that means you have to get on the bed.”

Sansa bowed to Brienne’s experience. “Help me up,” she said, her voice thick. Brienne nodded, taking a moment to pull herself to her feet first and then assisting Sansa.

XXX

Daenerys awoke to the sound of a scream. She shot up in bed, looking around her, feeling for the knife she kept in her pillow. She held it out but found her room full of nothing but darkness. Letting out a sigh, she fell back. It was likely the remnants of a dream. She had been having nice dreams, of her child and of Jon. She felt her husband’s absence like a missing limb.

Just as Dany closed her eyes again, there was another scream. There was no mistaking it this time. She had not been asleep at all. She jumped out of bed with a huff, not even bothering to put a robe on. It was likely one of her ladies. Perhaps they had seen a snake.

She found a crowd gathered outside of Sansa Stark’s room. “Get out of the way,” she said impatiently, batting away the attentions of her ladies. She stood in the doorframe, unconscious of the cold against her feet or shoulders.

Sansa’s room was dark but for a few candles. Dany tutted. She had banned candles a few weeks ago. Smoke was not good for her ladies. When the sun set, her ladies went to bed. She didn’t like to think of where these had come from. Perhaps one of her ladies had hidden them. Dany’s heart raced. Perhaps there was a plot, against her, to set her on fire.

She let out a laugh, though, as she remembered that she was born of fire. She would lose nothing but clothes if she were set aflame. She was Daenerys Targaryen, mother of dragons.

Her laugh attracted the attention of Lady Brienne, who was by Sansa’s bedside. Dany furrowed her brow and then there was another scream.

She turned on the spot, eyes wide, wondering where it had come from. There was another.

“Stop it!” she ordered. “Stop that immediately!”

“Your grace, she is in childbirth,” one of her ladies said, a horrible hissing noise in her ear. Dany stepped backwards, away from it and discovered that it had not been so close after all. She shook her head.

“Childbirth,” she said, nodding and reapproaching Sansa’s door frame. Dany studied Sansa’s face, sweating and contorted with pain. She bit her lip.

“Your grace,” Sansa cried, upon seeing her. Her eyes were wide and shining. “Your grace, please, Tyrion.” She was begging. Dany did not understand what she was saying. Did she think that Dany’s name was Tyrion? Was childbirth addling her mind? “Tyrion, please!”

One of her ladies hissed again. “Your grace, she wishes to have her husband by her side.”

“Her husband?” Dany repeated, confused. “Why would she want her husband? He did this to her! He is causing her so much pain!”

The thought was so confusing to Dany that she felt a sudden pain inside her, likely the baby kicking. A second one came and she stumbled, one of her ladies grasping her at the last minute. Dany batted her hand away, shaking her head and backing away.

“I must- I must-”

She found her way to the door, the main door to the confinement chambers. Two guards stood outside. Their eyes widened upon seeing her, only wearing her short nightgown. “Guards, guards,” she said, stumbling out, her large pregnant belly going before her. “You must arrest Tyrion Lannister. He has- he has caused pain to my lady. You must arrest him!” They didn’t move, only shared a look. Dany’s eyes widened. “Now!”

They ran, leaving Dany alone.

She leaned back against the stone wall, feeling it pleasingly cool against her skin. Cool- cool- she wanted it to be colder. Sansa’s screams were dancing around her head like a tortured melody. She wanted cold and she wanted silence. Her hand dragging along the wall, Dany wandered away from her chambers.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: major character death

Jaime arrived at Tyrion’s apartments weary. Joanna was in his arms, pouting but no longer crying. Jaime wanted to cry. He looked after Joanna most of the time because he felt so guilty that she didn’t have a mother at the moment. He couldn’t bear to leave her in the nursery, so he kept her with him, but she was crying. Tyrion reckoned her teeth were coming through and it was painful for little ones, so she cried.

And cried and cried and cried.

And sometimes Jaime cried with her or sometimes it would only be after she went to sleep that he would cry. He had been alone before in his life, but he had never had something as good and encouraging as Brienne’s constant companionship, so the absence of it only increased his loneliness.

Tyrion was helpful, sometimes, but they were both missing their wives so much that a lot of the time they only depressed each other, which was not helpful for either of them or for Joanna.

Arya was a big part of Jaime’s life now, and Tyrion’s too. She was their only link to their wives, as she was able to ‘become’ a maester and enter the apartments where Sansa and Brienne were. Jaime wasn’t sure if it was orders from their wives or sympathy, or duty, from Arya, but she spent a lot of time with both Jaime and Tyrion. There were multiple times that Arya had burst into Jaime’s chambers in the middle of the day and tugged his curtains apart and forced him to go and spar with her outside.

Jaime would never tell her how much he appreciated - and needed - her support. He had a feeling she already knew anyway.

Pulling himself away from the wall, Jaime caressed Joanna’s curls and knocked on Tyrion’s door.

Tyrion himself answered it, though he did not meet Jaime’s eyes. The smell of wine permeated immediately. “Dear Gods, Tyrion, have you bathed in wine?” Jaime asked, stepping into the apartment. He looked around. It was in as bad a state as his own, though worse-smelling. “Tyrion-”

Tyrion looked up which made Jaime cut himself off. His eyes were red, tears still on his cheeks. “What has happened?” Jaime demanded, his own throat closing as he imagined the possibilities. “Is it Sansa? What’s happened? Is it the baby?”

“She’s in labour. She’s in labour and they won’t let me see her. I can’t get in- Jaime, I can’t - she’s in-” he sobbed, the rest of his words blurring into nothingness. Jaime’s throat filled. The thought of not being beside Brienne when she gave birth was scary and very real, especially now that he saw the same thing happening to Tyrion.

Brienne’s time was close now. Jaime would find himself in the same position as Tyrion before long. “Tyrion, what can I do?” Jaime whispered. The tunnel that he had used to access Brienne’s chambers was now guarded, day and night. Arya had confirmed it for him. Tyrion shook his head.

“There is nothing,” Tyrion said brokenly. “She’s alone and-”

Jaime shook his head, tears springing to his eyes. “She’s with Brienne. She’s not alone.”

“She’s not got me!” Tyrion roared and then fell to the ground, his sobs overcoming him again. Jaime felt sick. This all felt like a horrible dream, like a nightmare that never ended. 

His father came to mind. Jaime chuckled bitterly at the thought of what Tywin Lannister would have thought of his two sons like this. He cradled Joanna close and then crouched down to his brother, a difficult feat considering he didn’t have another hand to balance on, but he managed. He cupped his brother’s cheek and made him look into his eyes.

“She is not alone,” he said, as strongly as he could, ignoring the tears in his throat. “She has Brienne and she’s going to have you. You’re the cleverest person I know. How do we get in there?”

Tyrion opened his mouth to speak but, before he could, there was a knock at the door. Jaime narrowed his eyes at his brother in silent askance. Tyrion shook his head mutely. Jaime swallowed, nodding and standing. He carefully placed Joanna on the bed and went to the door, pulling his sword from its sheath.

Behind the door he found ten guards. “What can we help you with?” he asked, sending a silent prayer to the Warrior. He would have struggled to take ten men with two hands. With one, he generally failed to beat just one soldier when he was sparring.

The head soldier sneered at him. “We’re not here for you, Kingslayer. Put your sword away.”

“If you’re here for my brother, you’re here for me.”

The soldier laughed and stepped into the chambers. Jaime stepped back so that he stood in front of his brother. “Tyrion Lannister,” the soldier said, ignoring Jaime. “We are arresting you for causing harm to a lady of the court.”

“What?” Jaime said disbelievingly. “Where are you getting this rubbish?”

“From the Queen herself, if you’d like to take it up with her,” one of the soldiers said. Jaime swore. There was no saying what the queen thought that Tyrion had done. He may have done something that she had misinterpreted. He clenched his hand around his sword.

“What has he done?” Jaime demanded. “He has a right to know what he has done.” Tyrion had yet to make a sound though Jaime could no longer hear his tears.

One of the soldiers near the back let out a chuckle and Jaime turned to them. “You!” he said, brandishing his sword. “What’s so funny?”

“Enough of this,” the head soldier growled, batting Jaime out of the way with embarrassing ease. Truthfully, Jaime knew that there was never a chance he could have fought off all of those soldiers. Instead, he sheathed his sword and picked up his daughter, following the troupe. Looking at his daughter, he had a sudden realisation.

“It’s her labour isn’t it?” he called, hurrying to catch up to the front. Tyrion looked at him in alarm. “That’s why the queen has had him arrested.” The head guard did not say anything. His silence was enough. “She can’t cope with the sound of her labour,” Jaime laughed, a humourless, bitter sound. “She’s mad!” he cried. “You’re serving a mad queen!”

“Ser Jaime!”

The sound of King Jon’s voice was as welcome as it was uncertain. Jaime turned to see him striding towards them. His kingly demeanour had much improved from his first few months as king. He had grown into the role and it suited him.

“My king,” Jaime said, bowing deferentially. “I was just explaining to these fellows,” he said through gritted teeth, “how the order to arrest my brother for the pain he has caused his wife in labour is an order from a mad queen.”

Jaime watched as Jon’s eyes fell to a silent and defeated Tyrion and then to the guards and then to Jaime. Later, Jaime would say that he saw the moment that Jon realised that enough was enough.

“Release him,” the king ordered. The guards did so immediately, letting Tyrion fall to the ground. “Come, Lord Tyrion, my sister is waiting for you.”

XXX

Arya watched her brother accompany the Lannister brothers down the hallway. She had been going to see them but it was far more important that Tyrion be with Sansa and Jaime would be needed with Brienne. Arya’s heart twinged at the thought of not being with them too but there was something far more important that she had to do.

Daenerys had left the castle and not been seen by anybody since. Her absence had not been noted yet, thankfully, giving Arya enough time to find her and bring her back to safety, where she could be looked after, allowing Jon to continue to run the kingdoms.

Arya escaped through the tunnels beneath the keep, praying in her head to her father’s gods and then her mother’s gods. She didn’t like Daenerys. She wished that she had stayed in Essos but she hadn’t and there was nothing Arya could do to change that. She was here and she was Arya’s goodsister - in every way that counted anyway - and Arya’s duty to protect her family extended to her. To her life, she thought with some guilt, remembering that she had been plotting to take her throne away from her.

Arya almost wished she had brought Gendry with her. He would know the way through these streets far better than she did. She went by instinct, by which way she hoped that Daenerys would have gone. Gendry would have known which people to ask, which way led where. And he would be with her so that she was not alone, for whatever she found.

Every so often, Arya had to force away the memory of Sansa’s screams. A huge part of her wanted to abandon Daenerys and go back to her real sister and hold her hand while she gave birth. She continually reminded herself, however, that she had Tyrion now, thanks to Jon, as well as Brienne and Jon. She was not alone, not like Daenerys was.

It took over an hour and it had started to rain when Arya finally stumbled upon Daenerys, down an alley. She was drawn to her by the soft sound of sobs. At the corner, Arya observed her for a moment. There was a baby whimpering in her arms and, pale, Daenerys was staring at it, sobbing, her shoulders shaking.

Arya’s heart broke. She approached. “Daenerys,” she said softly. The queen did not look up. As Arya drew closer, she saw that her eyes were glassy, not so much from tears. It was the sort of glassy look that Arya had seen few times before, in the eyes of Hodor, for example. Her heart rose in her throat.

“Daenerys, I’m here to help you,” she continued.

“Jon,” Daenerys mumbled. She was slumped against the wall and her grip upon the baby was loose. The baby was a girl, Arya finally saw. She was uncovered. Arya didn’t imagine that Daenerys had thought to bring anything with her to cover her baby. Arya was quite sure that the queen had no idea that she was in labour when she left.

“Jon,” Daenerys said again and her head fell to one side. Arya narrowed her eyes. She had no idea what was happening. Madness after childbirth was a symptom of something. Arya knew that much, though she wasn’t sure what the disease was.

Daenerys moved her head slowly from one side to the other, leaning her head on the cool brick behind. She had yet to notice Arya, though her eyes roved the alleyway. Arya didn’t like to wonder what she could see.

“Daenerys,” Arya said, swallowing her fear. Finally, Daenerys’ eyes snapped onto Arya’s and widened.

“Jon,” she cried. Arya’s lips parted. “Jon, Jon,” she repeated joyously, holding up the baby. Arya took her, pulling her close. Her warmth was shallow. Arya knew that she had to get the baby to a maester before it was too late, but she could not leave Daenerys here alone, like this.

Arya placed her hand on Daenerys’ shoulder. If she could get her to stand up, perhaps Arya could requisition a cart to get them to the keep. Daenerys’ eyes fell to the feeling of Arya’s hand on her shoulder and they narrowed, following her arm up to her face.

She screamed.

And then she was shaking. Arya flinched away. Fits after childbirth. Tears pricked Arya’s eyes.

The queen’s arms flew out wildly each time Arya tried to pull her to her feet. It was incredibly difficult with only one arm but Arya dared not put the baby down. If she got any colder, she could die. Arya wasn’t going to let her niece die.

“Okay, Daenerys,” Arya murmured, “I’m going to get a cart.”

Arya scurried out of the alleyway, searching her brain for the last time she had seen a cart. She looked around wildly, aware that she was being incredibly conspicuous. If only Gendry was here, if only she had paid more attention, if only she knew where each street would lead her. She couldn’t risk losing Daenerys. There was every chance that she wouldn’t find her again.

Gods, why hadn’t she left the castle more quickly? Why hadn’t she brought her own cart? Or some guards? Why hadn’t she thought?

Arya stumbled back to the alleyway, the rain coming down harder and harder. When she looked down, she found precisely what she knew she would. Even so, the sight made her fall against the wall next to her.

“No,” she said, leaning her temple against the wet, cool stone.

She was too late. She’d not been quick enough.

Daenerys Targaryen was dead.


	25. Chapter 25

Tyrion froze at the door. He felt his brother come to an abrupt stop behind him, heard Jon let out a shuttering gasp. The room was dark and Sansa was facing Brienne and another of Daenerys’ ladies who were serving her in her labour.

Heart beating rapidly, Tyrion walked closer. He could see that Sansa’s head was swaying from side to side, her beautiful eyes hazy and her mouth in a grimace of pain.

“You can do it, Sansa,” Brienne said, her voice almost a groan. A large hand patted Tyrion’s shoulder and Tyrion turned up to find Jaime’s green eyes looking into his. They were calm, steady and Tyrion felt his chest settle.

Sansa was here, in front of him for the first time in - how long? She was here and he was with her.

“Sansa,” he said hollowly. She turned to look at him but then let out a screech of pain as another contraction hit. Tyrion swallowed. “Brienne, what can I do?” he begged. Brienne looked up at him, blue eyes concerned.

She shook her head. “Hold her hand. Get on the bed and hold her hand.” Tyrion nodded hastily, shoving his sleeves up to his elbows. When Sansa looked at him, it was as though she didn’t recognise him, but, when he put his hand in hers, she let out a small sob and squeezed it tightly. Tyrion glanced back to find Jaime and Jon watching with worry.

“Go and find a maester, Jon,” Tyrion ordered. “Just - just in case.” The king nodded and hurried out of the room. Jaime grew close to Tyrion.

“What can I do?” Jaime muttered. Tyrion stroked his wife’s red face and shook his head.

“Pray.”

Jaime, in fact, went around to the other side of the bed to ask the same question of his wife and share a deep look with her. Tyrion had never appreciated his brother or his goodsister more as they gave up their reunion, after so many months, to care for his wife. Jaime was dispatched to fetch fresh sheets and towels.

“Come on, Sansa, I need you to push for me,” the other lady said. Sansa shook her head weakly. Tyrion found tears in his eyes.

“You can do it,” he murmured, pushing hair back from her forehead. She looked at him, her eyes heavily lidded. Tyrion wanted to send her strength. He asked, begged, pleaded with the Gods to send his strength to Sansa, to give her energy, to give her hope. He would not lose her, not like this, never like this.

Jaime returned swiftly, followed by Jon and the maester. The maester took one look at Sansa and then had a quiet conversation with Jon. Tyrion shook his head wildly. “If he is saying anything negative,” he told Jon, his voice as steady as it could be, “then go and get somebody else. A birthing woman. A different maester. I don’t want anybody in here who thinks my wife can’t survive this. Sansa is strong and she is going to have our baby.”

Jon cocked his head and dismissed the maester. As he did, Tyrion’s chest ran faster. His legs were cramping from his position on the bed but he didn’t dare move. His wife- Gods, he couldn’t lose his wife this way. Her face was bright red but her eyes were slipping in and out of being dazed. Tyrion could see that Brienne was pale, watching Sansa. He shook his head at her.

“Sansa, Sansa, please,” Tyrion begged. She didn’t even look at him. “Take my strength. Please, Sansa, please.”

XXX

Jaime watched his brother, his own heart wrenching at the sight of Sansa looking so weak, at the sight of Tyrion with tears on his cheeks. Surely not now, after surviving the war, after surviving Daenerys, after Jon had finally seen that there was something wrong with his wife. Surely they wouldn’t lose Sansa now.

Brienne’s face was pale as they changed the sheets beneath Sansa. Jaime didn’t know if this made her more fearful of the birthing bed. He hoped not. She would need all her strength, too, when she gave birth. It was going to be any day now. And Sansa would be there, beside Brienne.

Jaime sent a prayer to the Mother, to the Maiden, to the Crone. He sent one to the Father, the Stranger, the Warrior.

Sansa Stark was a warrior. She had already been through so much. They couldn’t - wouldn’t - lose her now.

Jaime saw his wife’s eyes light up when she stood herself up rightly again after having looked between Sansa’s legs. “I can see the head, Sansa,” she enthused. Jaime’s heart skipped a beat. He looked at Tyrion, who had his head bowed.

“You can do it, Sansa,” Jaime whispered. “Come on, Sansa. Don’t give up on us now.”

There was a moment, after the small body had made its way out of Jaime’s goodsister, just a split second where there was no cry. No piercing wail as Joanna had made when she was born. Jaime’s entire body froze. He watched Tyrion turn his head slowly to the baby in Brienne’s arms. He heard Jon arrive back, saw the birthing woman he had brought with him freeze at the sight of the silent baby.

And then it - he - cried.

A great screech like he’d been holding it in to make things dramatic. A half laugh, half sob escaped from Jaime’s mouth and he found himself at Brienne’s side before he knew what he was doing, his hand on her shoulder, looking into her eyes.

She’d done it. Delivered Sansa’s baby. Jaime looked up to find Tyrion pressing a kiss to Sansa’s head. Her colour had evened out. The birthing woman, a large woman, bustled into the room. “Men!” she declared. “Out, now. Men in the birthing room. Get - out!”

Jaime glanced at Tyrion, his eyes wide, and then at Jon. Tyrion let out a watery chuckle and pressed a kiss to Sansa’s forehead again. “My brother and the king will leave,” he said, “but I’m not leaving my wife for another moment.” Sansa smiled tiredly at him and Jaime felt his shoulders fall in relief, before, indeed, following Jon out of the room.

The two of them collapsed against the wall outside of the room, laughing with relief. “I really thought,” Jon started and then cut himself off. Jaime nodded.

“I know. But she’s okay.”

“She’s okay.”

Jaime looked up at the sound of the closed door to the birthing room opening. He smiled widely at the sight of his heavily pregnant wife but then his brow creased when he saw that she was wincing. “Jaime,” she said and Jaime knew what she was going to say before she said it.

“How long?”

“About six hours,” she said.

“Fuck.”

They had Brienne in a nearby bed before the birthing woman had even finished with Sansa and her baby boy. Jaime held her hand as tightly as he could. “Where’s - Joanna?” Brienne said between gritted teeth.

“With your maid.” Brienne nodded hurriedly. “I can get -”

“No,” she snapped. “Stay. Joanna - wait.” Jaime chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Okay, love. We can do this.”

“I don’t see you doing any of the fucking work, Jaime,” Brienne groaned, tipping her head back. Jaime fought to hide his smirk, especially when he saw Jon laughing at the doorway.

“The birthing woman will be five minutes.” Brienne nodded.

“Fine. It’s fine. I’ve done this before. Tell her I don’t think I’m far off.”

Jaime knelt on the edge of the bed, ignoring the dirty look he received when the birthing woman arrived to help Brienne bring their next baby into the world. “You having twins?” she asked matter-of-factly when she surveyed Brienne.

Jaime looked up sharply. Brienne furrowed her brow. “Twins?” Jaime said incredulously. The birthing woman nodded impatiently.

“Any decent maester would have measured you and said that. Have you not seen a maester?” Jaime glanced at Brienne but he was fairly certain that she had not heard a thing that the birthing woman had said after twins.

The birthing woman shook her head. “No matter. You’re right, though. They’re on their way.”

Jaime chuckled a bit hysterically as the birthing woman put her hand between Brienne’s legs and announced that she could feel the head - of their first baby. Two more babies. Jaime grinned at Brienne and she scowled back at him. “I missed that scowl,” he said fondly.

“You’ll be missing sex for the rest of your life,” she swore and Jaime snorted.

“Come back to me in two months, wench, and see if you’re saying the same thing.” Brienne’s glare was so intense - and the birthing woman was looking at him so incredulously - that Jaime ducked his head.

The first baby came quite slowly, after they first saw the head, and then the next baby rushed out to join her sister. Two girls. Jaime was glad that it was two girls. Twin girls. Now he had three girls. Joanna - and her sisters.

Brienne leaned her head back sleepily as the birthing woman helped her deliver the afterbirth. Jaime, his second daughter in his arms - and his third resting on her mother’s chest - wondered how long his wife had been awake, delivering Sansa’s baby and then her own. Jaime stepped over to the door, where he found a maid outside with fresh sheets. He took them from her and dispatched her to go and get Joanna, so that she could meet her sisters.

“What shall we call them?” Brienne’s hoarse voice asked as the birthing woman and the maid stripped the first side of the bed and replaced it with sheets, and then the second, like a military operation.

“What do you want to call them?” Jaime countered, perching himself on the now clean sheets. Brienne sighed.

“If it was a boy, I wanted Galladon.”

“Very inconvenient of them, not being boys.”

Brienne pursed her lips at him and Jaime briefly kissed her, closing his eyes to savour the feel of her lips. “You’re my hero,” he whispered to her. She chuckled and Jaime found that there were tears on her cheeks. He wiped them away awkwardly with his stump which made her smile. “What about - Arya says that the name Aloise means warrior.” Brienne smiled at him and nodded at the baby in his arms.

“She looks like an Aloise.” Brienne hummed. “And I like Leoline for a girl.”

Jaime furrowed his brow at her. “Where have you got that from?”

Brienne smiled. “The Lannister family tree.”

Jaime snorted. “Of course. Wonderful. Aloise and Leoline Lannister.” He pressed a kiss to her lips and smiled at her. “I love you.”

There was a knock at the door and the maid that Jaime had sent to get Joanna walked in, his eldest daughter perched on her hip.

“Dada,” she mumbled and Jaime smiled, thanking the maid. She bobbed a curtsey and left.

“Hi, little girl,” Brienne cooed as Jaime placed their first baby down on the bed. “I missed you.” Joanna lifted a pudgy hand to poke Brienne’s face and Jaime smiled, perching beside her. He looked over them, his four girls, and felt a huge swell of love in his heart. What had he done to deserve this?

He smiled. He’d stolen an army and marched it to his love’s home, what felt like years ago.

XXX

Arya stumbled into Jon’s chambers, the baby in her arms. She’d walked back with her to the palace, unable to cope with the fact that she had to tell her brother, her dearest brother, that his wife had died, alone, in an alley, after giving birth to a child.

“Arya!” Jon cried when he saw her, jumping up from his desk. “Where have you been? We’ve not seen you in-”

“Daenerys is dead,” she cut him off in a dull tone. She watched with a breaking heart as Jon stumbled backwards, barely catching himself on the bed frame. “This is your daughter.”

Jon didn’t react. He stared behind Arya, at nothing. Arya swallowed her apologies, her explanations. That could all come later. For now, all he needed to know was that his wife was dead and that she had given him a child.

“Did she name her?” Jon asked with no emotion. His eyes finally moved to his daughter, pink and sleeping, her hair already so blonde that it couldn’t be seen very clearly against her soft head. Arya smiled down at her niece.

She shook her head. “She didn’t.” Arya stepped forward and pressed the baby girl into Jon’s arms. “You can name her whatever you want.”

Jon’s eyes were glassy. “How can I? Do I name her as a Targaryen or as a Stark?”

“Do you want to rule as a Targaryen or a Stark?”

Jon met Arya’s eyes and a sob wracked his body. Arya felt her own eyes prick with tears. She stepped forward and wrapped her brother in her arms, his daughter peaceful between them.

XXX

FOUR YEARS LATER  
“Papa,” Visenya Stark cried as her father walked into the throne room. Sansa smiled. She’d not seen her niece in almost two years now, since her last visit to King’s Landing, where her brother ruled as King Jon Stark, alongside his soon-to-be queen, Val of the Free Folk.

Along with her husband and their three children, Eddard, Catelyn and Robb, Sansa had travelled down from Winterfell, along with a delegation from the Free Folk, to witness her brother’s wedding. It was a long time in coming. People had been clamouring for Jon to remarry, since not very long after his first wife’s death, but Jon had taken his time to grieve, to get to know his daughter and to choose somebody who the realm would love.

The people certainly loved Val, who wore her hair freely and spoke often with the people of King’s Landing. The nobles were still smarting from the hit to their prides, as there were so many girls who would have offered King Jon more than Val did.

Sansa saw both sides of the argument, from afar, but, up close now in King’s Landing, she could see that Val would make her brother happy.

Any children they had would, of course, come after Visenya in the succession. Visenya would follow her mother and be the second queen of Westeros to rule in her own right.

Sansa watched her brother scoop his daughter into his arms. Her hair was running free, just like Val’s. Val stepped forward to speak softly to Visenya and Sansa was pleased to see Visenya react happily to her attentions.

“Lord and Lady Lannister,” the man at the door announced. Sansa grinned, glancing at Tyrion at her side. It had only been three months since Jaime and Brienne had left Winterfell, but it was always too long between visits.

Jaime and Brienne entered in all blue and gold. Two maids followed them, with golden-haired Joanna, twins Aloise and Leoline, toddling Galladon and baby Catrine. Sansa strode down the platform to greet them.

With a smile, she took Brienne’s hands into her own. “Goodsister,” she greeted.

“Sansa,” Brienne said fondly. “I was surprised you came.” Her eyes flicked down to Sansa’s growing stomach. Sansa laughed.

“It always shocks me how large you get, Sansa,” Jaime said, leaning over to kiss Sansa’s cheek, “considering how minute your husband is.”

Tyrion, at Jaime’s side, said, “and it always shocks me that your children manage to be born, considering the size of head that they are inheriting.” Brienne snorted and tapped Jaime’s stomach. He scowled at her. “How was your journey, dear goodsister?”

“Very well, though Catrine was fussy.”

“Well, you have to consider her parentage, Brienne. If you continue to insist on producing little Jaimes, they will continue to be fussy.”

“This is the last time I’m travelling to see you, Tyrion,” Jaime groused. “I always end up being picked on.”

“You always deserve it,” Brienne said to him. Jaime clucked his tongue and Sansa smiled.

“It is good to see you,” she said to them both. “Jon is having a private dinner with the Free Folk tonight so you should come to our chambers.”

Tyrion nodded. “Bring your brood.”

Jaime grinned, looking over his shoulder at the children who were looking around themselves in awe. Catrine was sleeping on the maid’s shoulder. He turned to his wife and brought her hand to his mouth to kiss.

“We’ll see you there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this fic is finally over.
> 
> At first, this fic was like my brain baby. I loved it. It was the fic that had me start writing all my fics again, that made me go overdrive into Braime. I love these characters and I love their time at Winterfell. I had all of this planned out by the end of January and then I just had to write it.
> 
> As I have mentioned before, things did go downhill from there. I received a lot of criticism for my portrayal of Dany particularly. I've been writing fic since 2012 (but seriously since 2016) and I have never received so much hate and just plain horrible reviews. I don't mean critical comments, because I have received those before, obviously. I mean genuinely horrible reviews. I couldn't seem to write anything without being told that I was a horrible person.
> 
> SO! I would like to apologise for the way I portrayed Dany in this. I knew that I wanted to write mad!Dany (in an ill, mental illness way, rather than an evil way) pretty much from the start and I have to say that it challenged my writing skills. But I know that it annoyed a lot of people who said that it was inaccurate.
> 
> I would also like to apologise for not having my head around the tags before I posted this. This was the first story that I posted on ao3, having only used fanfic.net before. The system is obviously very very different in terms of tags and I know that I did the wrong thing to start with. I hold my hands up and say that I did. I think I understand better now but I am always happy to take criticism on that, because it genuinely does help me to learn to use the website better.
> 
> SO YES! Thank you so so much to everybody who read my story. I've never written a story like this before. This is also the longest, full on fic I've ever written. I can't tell you how happy I am to be finished with it.
> 
> I would love it if you checked out my other stories (Changing Priorities, for a more Sanrion based fic, with a positive Dany, which will hopefully be finished within a week; Back to An Old Life, which again will be finished this week, and which involves Braime travelling back in time; and Finding Family, which is possibly my favourite fic and which is probably about five chapters from the end). I also have stories in the Harry Potter, Once Upon A Time and Timeless fanbases, including a 50,000 word fanfic for Timeless that I just wrote from start to finish in ten days.
> 
> Thank you so much, again. Your support means the world and I hope you continue reading my work!


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